This Is Something New
by merannoeu
Summary: Preseries. The Winchesters take on a case and all that comes with it while trying to avoid attracting attention. Sounds easy, right?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Friends were watching his children out of the kindness of their hearts - friends of his newly deceased wife. He couldn't be with his sons at that time for he couldn't bear the grief in their eyes or the look of pity with a touch of suspicion directed toward him. After all, he wasn't the only one who wondered _'how did he and his sons make it out unscathed?'_

He was holed up in a hotel room, alone, and he was still in shock. The nightmarish events played out in his mind over and over; they were fragmented bits and pieces recalled in the way that one can only recount a dream, bad or good, the next morning...

_That night, his wife's scream from their son's nursery urged him to rush up the stairs, running to her assistance; once there, he couldn't understand it when all appeared sound - the baby was fine - his wife would never cry out without a reason. Then something made him look up. That was when he saw his wife._

_His blood ran cold when he saw her - she was unmoving, pinned to the ceiling. He knew that for as long as he would live, he could never forget the terrified expression frozen on her face - the way her eyes looked at him, her mouth open in a silent scream._

_He still could not look away when a fire suddenly ignited behind her; the intense heat and the smell of her roasting flesh engulfed him. The loud cries of his baby pierced through the horror of what was happening above them and only then did he move; instinct was to get his son out._

_Thankfully his four year old son was standing there in the hallway to assist in that rescue and he didn't hesitate to entrust him with the vital task. Both sons now clear, he started coughing and turned back to the room, saw that it was impossible to re-enter it. The truth hit him like a punch to the gut - it was too late for his wife, for the boys' mother._

_The flames had consumed the whole room at this time and he watched as the fire was rapidly spreading toward him. He was finding it difficult to breath and started to feel dizzy. His wife was completely gone and he wanted to die too; he could if he just stood where he was, he could become trapped and perish._

_But he would not. The thought that his sons were still alive, alone outside, struck him; self-preservation prevailed in that last moment of time when a person can still escape from being asphyxiated to death and burned. The next thing he remembered was being in the front yard and running toward his oldest son still holding the baby. Grabbing them up into his arms, he sped away from the house just missing being hit by glass projectiles from the burning exploding window._

It wasn't until about thirty-six hours later when he, thoroughly exhausted, succumbed to a sleep on his hotel bed that lasted longer than an hour here or there. Twelve hours had passed and he opened his eyes once again. It was only the hope that none of it really happened that pushed him up and into his car for a drive by his house.

As he turned the corner, he could no longer deny what he witnessed that night was real. His son's nursery and the surrounding rooms on the second floor were, in fact, burned away. His wife _was_ murdered. Rage took over and replaced any last shred of disbelief he held on to. He knew what he had to do next; reunite with his young sons then find a way to make whatever it was more than sorry that it cut their once happy family from four to three.


	2. Chapter 2

After about two weeks of investigation in Amherst, the Winchesters, a father named John and two sons, 19 year old Dean and 15 year old Sam, were concluding a hunt for a poltergeist during the dark early morning hours. Such a thing was business as usual.

It had been the brothers' job to enter the cemetery undetected. Upon making quick work of locating the offending specter's grave they both shared in the tedious effort of digging it up. Sam sprinkled the bones with salt and Dean added the kerosene. With his customary "you've been a pain in the ass" farewell, Dean then carefully tossed down a lit match so that the entire site burst into flames, thereby putting an end once and for all to the malevolent spirit.

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During the course of his sons' undertaking, the father performed his preferred part of the hunt back at the haunted house—observing the ultimate demise of the spirit. The poltergeist had detected John's presence at the designated point in time. Iron weapon at the ready, John tensed for the anticipated attack just as the etheric being flew toward him with a shout of rage. Suddenly, the angry spirit's approach was thwarted by some unseen force and it let out an earsplitting shriek as it became consumed by fire. All John was hit with was a whoosh of heated air and he exhaled in relief in the now silent dwelling. Feelings of pride in his sons surged within him; immediately impatient to have them near, John inconspicuously hastened to his car.

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Job done, the siblings trudged their way to the designated meeting location then wearily dropped to the ground, Dean letting a rather loud groan escape. Sam's eyes darted around. "Shh!"

"What? There's no one here," Dean hissed.

Sam gave him a look that expressed _'then why are you whispering?_'

Dean shook his head meaning _'Whatever._'

They remained quiet as they relaxed and wordlessly waited for their dad to pick them up. The weather enhanced their peaceful mood; it was tranquil with an occasional gentle breeze blowing through their hair.

Dean glanced over at his brother who was perched close by. Sam noticed and gave him a smile before tilting his dirt-streaked face up toward the heavens. _'He seems comfortable doing this sort of thing now,'_ Dean thought. Satisfied because he and his family completed the job successfully, together, he then let out a contented sigh and joined his brother in star gazing.

Sam was appreciating Dean's nearness—the golden silence—and the fact that his brother was actually respectful of it. It meant that Dean was okay.

Though calm, Sam found himself unable to avoid reflecting on the events over the past week, mainly on how the hunt had been touch and go for a while...

_His dad had gone missing, the first time without any prior warning. John left them alone before, sure, but the separation was always intended or announced. Though the passing of time lessened the pain, he remembered how fearful he felt, could only think the worst. Dean was just as scared but tried to hide it; Sam loved him all the more for it. Despite Dean's best efforts it was an awful time as they were virtually rendered immobile. Sam prayed it would be the first and last time._

_John made his way back through the front door a couple of days later; Dean was instantly back to his old self. Sam was relieved as well but quickly became livid when it was clear there would be no explanation offered—especially because of how those two days affected Dean. Sam went so far as to shout at his father but nothing cracked the tough exterior; John had simply ordered him to move on._

_Sam grudgingly complied; telling himself that the important thing was that everyone is alright helped but bitterness remained, was kept locked away, simmering below the surface._

Sam and Dean stood up when they could hear the low rumble of John's '67 Chevy Impala in the distance; Dean would swear he could even feel it as well. Eventually, the black car appeared and they watched its slow approach until John stopped it in front of them.

The car definitely had personality with its distinctive squeaky doors that were heard when being opened by Sam and Dean once the tools were placed back into the trunk.

Upon being situated inside, Dean always in the front while Sam got the back seat to himself, with the doors creaking shut behind them, each son received a silent nod of approval from John who had been waiting behind the wheel, sitting in the shadows. They, in turn, answered with a gratified expression; there was nothing that needed to be said.

The satisfying end to the hunt was kept low key as the Winchesters spent the drive back to their motel room in companionable silence.

By the time they reached their destination, the three men were starting to feel anticlimactic so they simply planned on following the routine with unspoken agreement—each man taking a shower before eating together then going to sleep.

However, the routine had been interrupted. About thirty minutes later, while preparing the meal of eggs and toast, John's phone rang. Sam and Dean watched as John picked it up and headed outside. The brothers, having heard their father say "hey, Caleb" before he disappeared, shared a quick look with each other then turned back to the task at hand. This was their life, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The small family was currently sitting rather awkwardly around the cramped table of their motel room, eating breakfast to the pale light of the rising sun. Utensils clinking against plates and chewing were the only sounds being made by Dean and Sam as the brothers occasionally stole glimpses of their father.

John was just sitting there with a severe cast to his face, obviously deep in thought. Sam and Dean were experienced enough to know not to interrupt their dad when he was in such a state and so they waited patiently for his explanation. The possibility of a new case ran through their minds and kicked in just enough adrenaline to keep them awake for a bit longer.

John was contemplating what his good friend had called about. Caleb was asking for help investigating the news about two men from his community found dead in their beds under suspicious circumstances. "Of course we'll come," John had said. "Just give us two days."

Having created an initial theory based on what little he knew, John became aware of his sons' eyes on him. Focusing on Sam, John sensed that all the anger his youngest son had expressed over his disappearance had now faded. John inwardly cringed at the memory of Sam yelling "we deserve to know...Dean deserves to know!" at him. John knew he would have reacted the same way but, once again, didn't allow his sons' to think he tolerated such behavior. No matter how much he hurt from Sam's outburst, he drew the line at letting them see it. There was nothing his children could say that would get him to reveal the details of his sordid diversion; some things he would just not talk about.

John decided Sam had played with his food long enough and plainly stated the obvious. "You boys are probably wondering about my phone call with Caleb."

"Yes, sir" Dean replied with his mouth full. Sam shot him a look of displeasure which Dean chose to ignore.

John continued without missing a beat. "There's a situation in Henderson...two men have died in their beds with no known cause. I know it's not much to go on yet..." He saw that he had both boys' attention and resumed.

"It might be a succubus, a type of demon that is seen to be a beautiful woman...only visible to the male target while he's in a state of limbo...not yet asleep but not quite awake either. This creature latches on to the victim and absorbs the man's life force while increasing its own strength. These attacks could go on all night for many nights, causing the victim to be tired more and more due to lack of sleep and loss of energy. He eventually dies when the last of his life force has been drained away."

Seeing his dad was finished, Sam had just opened his mouth to speak but Dean was quicker.

"These guys were having sex with monsters?"

"Dean," John replied with mild exasperation while tilting his head meaningfully toward his younger son. He wasn't too surprised at his older son's response—he knew how Dean got when he was tired. So he, also spent, let it go for the most part and decided they would seriously discuss the case after they were all rested.

"Oh, it's okay, Dad. Sammy here knows almost everything there is to know, don't you Sam?"

John merely lifted his eyebrows while Dean grinned in Sam's direction. Dean always enjoyed the opportunities to put his little brother on the spot; they came quite frequently.

Sam, now with his head down, was blushing and said nothing to deny the claim. John brought his hands up to massage his temples.

Sam had perked up as his father shared his theory that it was a certain type of demon that was causing these men to die in their beds. _'This is something new...he called it a succubus' _he thought and filed that term away to be further researched. However, he wondered if it could instead be a witch doing this and was about to say so when Dean inserted his own unique take on the matter.

"Sex…With monsters," Dean repeated incredulously when no one else spoke. "Even kissing one! Can you even imagine? Shit!"

Sam jerked his head up and turned toward Dean. _'Did he know?'_ he worried briefly but then saw the set of his brother's face and figured that he was just talking instinctively. Relieved at that, Sam relaxed and said, "I don't think it sounds that strange...to me anyway. It's not that inconceivable."

_'Oh Sammy, now you've done it! You are always so easy!...I'm almost embarrassed_' Dean thought. Then his eyes narrowed and he deadpanned, "don't try to hide behind big words, Sammy. Is there something you want to tell us?"

_'Oh, God. Maybe he does know! Dean's not stupid, after all. But wait,' Sam_ reasoned_, 'I'm sure if he did know, he would have said so by now.'_

A few seconds of silence weighed on them before Dean registered Sam's panic-stricken expression. "I didn't mean with monsters, dumbass," Dean clarified as if such a thing were so ludicrous. "I mean with...you know."

His mind back on the subject of kissing human girls, Sam's eyes widened slightly more and the blush returned to his face.

"Sam! Did you…?" Dean choked out.

Sam instantly realized Dean wasn't talking about a simple kiss, he was inferring much more. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"At your age? I never did." Dean felt his little brother denied the accusation too quickly and so added,"...until now."

Sam faced back downward, eyes shifting left to right, distressed with the focus on him—especially with his dad there. He longed to just disappear.

Suddenly, John brought his hands down and wondered _'did the table just get smaller?_' With a sigh, he pushed himself out of his chair and proceeded to gather up the dirty clothes—mostly Dean's—scattered about the room.

The room was quiet but for the sounds of his father moving about. _'How does Dean do it?...every time!'_ Sam wondered, looking at his brother in amazement.

Dean had intended his insinuations merely as a joke. He was sure Sam was still a virgin but seeing he had just hit a nerve, he was starting to become concerned. _'Who was she?...I hope he used protection...' _Needing to find something to do, he stood up and started collecting the plates off the table.

Sam could sense his dad was listening in by the way he kept himself relatively close by. "Well you don't have to worry."

"Come on, Sammy. Of course I do—you're my little brother who needs me to guide you through the magical journey. I've just been waiting for the signs from you." Dean paused just then, some memory fighting its way to the surface and his face fell as he recalled it out loud. "There has been nothing since that time in Lincoln...you asked me on the phone about how to talk to girls."

Again Sam's mind jumped back to the subject of his anxiety. It was uncanny that his brother was zeroing on the same thing.

Dean was referring to the time about a month prior when they were hunting a kitsune in Lincoln. Dean and their dad were out on the case while Sam stayed behind helping with research. One day Sam was at the local library when he spotted this cute girl and wanted to get to know her. He was on the phone with Dean at the time and asked for advice. What should have been a simple first encounter turned into a nightmare. The implications of it were frequently warring in his mind—sometimes wondering if he made too much of it while other times thinking he wasn't doing enough.

John paused. The mention of Lincoln triggered in him the vision he had of the dead kitsune lying there in a house. It had been killed and there was no sign of a struggle. Upon making the discovery, the hunt was concluded in his mind but the results of it remained a mystery perhaps never to be answered. John shook his head; for now he would continue to satisfy himself with the belief that another hunter was involved, wishing to remain anonymous.

Still sitting at the table, Sam's shoulders grew tense with the eyes of his brother on him. He kept his gaze downward to hide the emotions that threatened to be seen on his face. He was not willing to breathe a single word of that experience, especially after so much time had gone by. It would be like opening Pandora's box.

_'Huh, maybe he did have sex with someone and he won't talk about it...same as Dad'._ Dean didn't mean to bring up Lincoln but that time of his life was never far from his mind. That hunt was a point of contention for him for other reasons and now it seemed to have one more. He loved his little brother so much that anything that hurt Sam hurt him. "I'm just wondering what happened, that's all" Dean added gently while standing in the kitchen area.

It seemed from Dean's soft tone of voice that he didn't suspect Sam's situation. Sam started to relax but still, however, couldn't face Dean just yet. Sam wished Dean didn't care so much, it made lying to him harder.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up to see Dean had moved closer to him and then quickly turned away. "I'm fine. Just tired right now, you know?" he said in a strained voice.

Dean shot a worried glance over to his dad who was now sitting on a bed. John wasn't going to get involved just yet; he wasn't ready to address his sudden awareness of Sam's ascension into manhood. He would wait until the time was right—in the car where he was most comfortable, when he could focus his eyes on the road ahead.

John cleared his throat just then and said, "okay, boys, enough talk...back to business. Let's turn in for a few hours before moving on."

"Yes, sir" Dean and Sam replied simultaneously, Sam's reply with a quiet sigh of relief at the end.

_'Thanks, Dad.'_ thought Sam as he stood up and made his way to the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

'This is going better than I thought it would,_' he confesses to himself. They are sitting on a couch at Amy's home, getting to know each other and she is smiling at him. _'We have so much in common...awesome!' _he thinks._ _He can't help but beam back. _

_Abruptly, there is something calculating in the way Amy looks at him. Her expression grows solemn and she remarks matter-of-factly, "you are a freak." There is no heat behind it but it burns anyway and he can't conceal the involuntary wince—which she sees. He appreciates her rush to reassure him so immensely—apparently, such a designation can be a positive distinction—that he didn't entirely absorb the details of her sophisticated sounding reasoning._

_And so he is back to being in good spirits, the catalyst that emboldens him to put his longing into action; yet he is also nervous. Exasperated with it all,_ _his inner voice ends the battle asserting_ 'it's now or never.' _Before he loses his nerve, he thinks 'now!' then closes his eyes, leans forward and kisses her, all within a swift second. To his relief, Amy doesn't flinch—she is actually returning the kiss; her lips are warm and soft and his mind is swirling in a haze of ecstasy. There is nothing else going on in the world, it's just him with her…_

_Curiously, he senses he is now upright and Amy's presence has vanished; something is wrong. His contentment recedes—it is a dreadful physical feeling of warm blood traveling from his heart and returning cold. He frowns and quickly opens his eyes to find there is now a strange woman standing before him. Surprise turns to horror when he realizes she is the kitsune that his dad and brother are hunting—and Amy__ is her daughter._

_The mother kitsune is not put off by a gangly featured teen, such as he is, glaring at her. Inspecting him, her eyes show nothing but malice. "This kid is food!" she snarls. _

_Now there is a knife in his hand; he knows he's supposed to kill this creature but is somehow incapable—his arms won't move, feet are frozen to the floor. He just stands still when the kitsune grabs him by his shirt. His final thought is _'sorry, Dean._' He is transfixed by her raised right hand as the claws develop and strike toward him. _

With a gasp, Sam's eyes opened wide and his whole body jerked with the sensation that he was falling. He found himself lying on his bed and took in the grungy motel room with the tan colored walls. _'I'm still in Amherst…and in one piece,_' he realized after a quick glance over his own body. He blew his breath out loudly, gratified.

Instinctively, Sam glanced left to Dean's unmade bed and though it was empty, he was consoled—he heard the voices of his brother and dad just outside.

_'It was that damn nightmare again,_' he reflected with a shudder. Though each time some details are different, Sam remembers that he is always kissing Amy, hearing her call him a freak and about to be killed. The passage of time has made the actual experience seem more and more surreal but the bad dreams linger on and won't let him ever forget that he did come face to face with not one but two kitsunes.

Lying there, trying to steady his breathing, reality continued to gradually take hold. Sam registered that the room was very hot and stuffy; the sun was brightly streaming in through the window. Even with just boxers on, his skin stuck to the sheets.

Sam cast his eyes to the front door as he heard footsteps approaching on the other side. It opened gently, allowing his brother to poke his head inside—Dean's hazel green eyes met Sam's hazel green eyes, the only identifying feature they shared between them. "Nap time is over, princess, we're leaving in ten," Dean informed him with a wink.

"Okay," was all Sam was capable of saying with his throat being dry. While stretching to wake up his body, a cool breeze flowed inside and felt good on his sweaty skin.

Dean scrutinized him with a tense expression. "Come on, Sam. Time to get ready! Caleb is waiting."

Sam first lifted his left arm and waited the couple of seconds necessary before he was able to focus on his watch; he read 10:20. Four hours had gone by. He groaned inwardly, _'God, it feels like I just laid down five minutes ago...my head feels like a rock._' But he didn't want to show too much vulnerability with Dean still standing there, watching him, so he pulled himself up, found a change of clothes and sluggishly tread to the bathroom.

Now satisfied, Dean headed back out, leaving the door slightly ajar and called, "don't worry, we're right outside," his voice travelling further away.

After relieving himself, Sam looked at the shower and thought _'who knows when the next one will be' _so he started the water and stepped in.

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"Sam up and running?" John inquired as his older son completed the short distance from the room back to him. He could guess the answer based on Dean's troubled look.

"He's up, but I won't say he's running...it's more like staggering."

John narrowed his eyes and tightened his mouth at that. _'That's another thing...we're always waiting on that kid.'_

"He just needs a few...he had another nightmare by the looks of him," Dean conveyed with a hint of ambiguity.

John shook his head, considering for a moment. "Well, he has been pushing himself this past June or so...been taking what we do more seriously. This new focus of our reality must be affecting him more so in his unconscious because of it."

Dean contemplated that. _Dad is right on about Sammy...he has been training harder lately...could be too much and he's exhausted. _"Maybe..."

John's allowance was short-lived. "Hasn't really improved our relationship, though...Sam's still as stubborn and hard-headed as ever," he vented in a clipped voice. He couldn't help but recall their conflicts, old and new..._'instead_ _of hearing Sam say, 'why can't we stay here a little longer' or 'I can't go bow-hunting, I've got to stay after school to help with an assignment', it was now 'are you sure that's the best way to kill a rawhead?'_. It wasn't what he said, it was how he said it. He could still physically feel the stab of tiny daggers from the anger shooting out of his younger son's eyes. "He's changed from fighting me about school to just fighting," John added.

"Yes sir," was all Dean could say with a touch of weariness for having to endure both of their egos throughout the past several years. _'Sam never got to have a normal life so I could understand why he tried so hard to join soccer, focus on school and outside friends...hell, I even supported it...but it's summertime…I don't get why Sam is still easily angered...not that Dad's temper helps any_,' Dean thought, trying to analyze his brother's contrary behavior.

"His attitude is only gonna get him in trouble. If we're gonna include him on the front lines, he's got to obey my orders," John said, more to himself.

'_Huh, Dad's gonna get Sam more involved now…no more just digging up corpses…maybe Sam showing more interest in hunting is his way of telling us he's bored and Dad's picked up on it...Sammy's now gonna be at greater risk!...he's tested fine so far...well, he is, after all, past the age when I got more in deep and I'm still okay..._' The final rationalization was Dean's attempt to ease his ingrained anxiety.

He tried to keep his brother in the dark about what their dad was really doing when he was away; that lasted until Sam was eight years old. When his little brother learned the truth, he found he felt relieved. He took solace in talking freely and enjoyed how Sam looked up to him. Now, it seemed Sam was ready to take on more and Dean found himself subject to mixed emotions.

Dean's ruminations were interrupted as John, staring off in the distance, gruffly continued. "What matters is respect. He's got to fall in line…for the sake of us all."

Dean recognized what his father was really trying to say and swallowed apprehensively before speaking it out loud. "I know you worry about him, Dad." That earned him a fierce stare but John stayed silent, then his expression softened; it was an affirmation that Dean was right. "But I think the best thing is to work _with_ him on this, not order him to...next thing you know, he'll run off...instead of him finding trouble, trouble will find him."

_'Wow, that just sort of came from nowhere...Why did I just say that?' _Dean wondered. Then, horror-stricken, he thought_, 'If it's true, Sammy's screwed no matter what._' Dean suddenly checked the room door, and was reassured it was as he left it.

In response, John thought_, 'God, I love this kid...so much like Mary...'_

"That's fine son, then you can handle that." Within John, some inner meter sounded indicating that was all the warmth he would allow to be seen; back to himself now, he cleared his throat and crisply announced, "as for me, I won't tolerate such behavior...I won't stand for that tone of his. Also, his head is still in the clouds, and he's not quite as focused as he needs to be...very dangerous. You don't get very far having doubts or reservations or guilt or any of those other emotions of his."

His dad has given him permission to work with Sam. Dean decided that's the best he can get out of him and, therefore, doesn't push the issue. Truthfully, being caught in the middle, he could see both sides. "I don't disagree...I'll take care of it," Dean concluded.

Acknowledging Dean's perceptiveness, John nodded. "Anyway, let's finish checking the car before we head out." He proceeded to pop open the hood and leaned forward to check the oil while Dean crouched down to measure the tire pressure.

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Sam stood before the mirror, towel wrapped around his narrow hips. "I am a hunter," he whispered to his image but he's not sure whether it is who you are or what you do_. _

He's alone for now and there was nothing to hide; all the turmoil plaguing him rushed to the surface of the deep ocean that is his mind. It was a rage that simmers and stews, threatening to turn him mad by leaving him with more questions than answers. He still dwelled on why he was unable to kill the kitsune. He's told himself that it's because he's never killed any living supernatural creature before but he's not so sure it's that simple.

More than that, he wrestled with the fact that he let Amy go. He is slightly disgusted to think what she may be doing now—who she might kill. To help him feel better, he deliberately perceives she is managing with nonliving food sources. Guilt tries to eat away at him but he stops it effectively by telling himself he must learn from his mistakes, get past this to move forward.

But then there was the more formidable inner voice of doubt buzzing around, saying, '_maybe it wasn't a mistake_.' He had feelings for Amy and she saved his life. His compassion comes into play presently rationalizing that some monsters are more than just evil entities, it isn't just black and white.

Of course, he's aware his dad and brother don't see it that way which is why he didn't say anything, they wouldn't understand. '_Dean! Dad! They're out there waiting for me!' _Sam suddenly realized. He quickly got dressed, afraid of what they might do if he was not ready to go after all this time. Done in the bathroom he hurried to grab up the bag that contained everything he owns and headed outside.

The sun's brightness hit Sam full in the face—it came from above coupled with the light reflecting off the empty parking lot; he had to squint to see. Even here in the northern region of the country, the clear day was uncomfortably hot. Any cool feeling on his skin from the shower rapidly evaporated.

He made out the car and saw his dad and Dean standing there waiting on him. Sam may be suffering but to him, they didn't look so great either. He stood firm by his decision that they don't need anything else to worry about.

"Did you guys get enough sleep? You look like shit" Sam stated point blank.

"We slept like friggin' babies" Dean answered sarcastically.

Sam looked at his dad who got to the point, "we decided to make it in record time…we don't plan on stopping for the night. Sam, you're gonna help with the driving."

Sam perked up at that. "Great! When?"

"You'll know when I know and not before." Sam sighed at that familiar answer from his father. He rolled his eyes and saw Dean slightly shrug his shoulders in response.

"Let's go kill some more monsters," Dean said before entering the car. _'And any fugly that so much as looks at Sam is gonna wish it was dead before it's dead,'_ he vowed silently.


	5. Chapter 5

Only a handful of local residents remained out and about at the time of an already too warm late morning. Each and every logical process of theirs, no matter its level of importance, was halted when their ears picked up what initially sounded like the rumble of distant thunder. Not coming from above but rolling along the ground, the people turned their eyes upon the road to see the source—a sleek black classic car with rock music pounding out from its stereo.

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The Winchesters beheld some people strolling along the downtown sidewalks with expressions, some hostile but mostly of appreciation, upon their faces while they focused on the Impala as it smoothly rumbled along.

John was behind the wheel as they high-tailed it out of Amherst. Those who made eye contact with the rough looking driver would instantly turn their heads away and go back about their business. None the wiser for who the family was or what they did, if an officer confronted them with "did you see a black car go through here with three men inside?" it was a good bet they'd respond in the negative.

"Looks like we kinda stand out here too," Dean said. "Dad, I think you're making a couple of the older ladies all hot and bothered!" He chuckled while reaching out to turn the music up even more.

The windows were down to provide some relief from the heat. Sam, in the back seat, got the brunt of the effects with his brunette longish hair blowing in all directions. The older men were enjoying one of John's Rolling Stones tapes playing loudly in order to be heard over the wind. Not his choice of music, but powerless against the rules of the road, Sam tolerated it at best.

_'I think I must have seen the backs of their heads almost as much as I've seen their faces_,' Sam's inner voice grumbled, his hands brushing his hair back in place for the twentieth time.

Sam sighed and gazed out of the window. They were out of the town now and he watched the greenery rapidly passing by while doing as he always did—mourning over yet another departure. In this case, he would miss being in the valley dotted with college campuses and the surrounding mountains.

The fifteen year old observed that Dean, shoulders moving as his hands tapped to the beat, was facing straight ahead. '_I wish I was more like him, enjoying this life,' _Sam mused not for the first time.

_Brown Sugar _ended and Dean glanced into the side mirror. He could see his little brother moping in the back seat and thought, _'time for the master to intervene_' as he reached into the glove compartment.

"Goddammit!" Dean snapped. Sam flinched and saw Dean struggling with a large map, earnestly attempting to plot a course.

"Dude, what the hell...what are you so pissed about?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dean snapped loud enough to be heard over the next song that was starting to play. He shook the map and said, "maybe it's 'coz we're on the easternmost point of a non-stop two-day drive to the western end of the country!_" _

Sam tried not to laugh at his brother sitting there, wide-eyed and breathing heavy.

"Dean! Stop! You better give that for me to do before you hurt yourself!" his voice shaking with amusement. Sam knew his brother was doing this to help improve his spirits—and it worked, just a little.

"Here ya go...bitch," says Dean, feigning anger, handing him the map. "We'll see if you can do any better."

"Really? Dean, you know I've always done the route planning since I was 12 years old!"

"Yeah, well...I can still kick your ass!"

Sam whispered, "sure you can…jerk," so Dean couldn't hear or else there really would be a fight.

"What'd ya say?"

"Nothing...Nothing." Sam brushed his hair back again. "Just roll up the window a little."

"Okay, guys," John jumped in. "Sam, just plot a direct course but make it the most northern route as well. Dean, you sleep."

"Right now, you just need to get on to 90 west and it will take us to New York," Sam said.

Dean looked back to see Sam hunched over, plotting a course. With Sam busy in the back and his Dad driving, Dean felt complete. '_Life is good_,' he thought with a small smile then curled up to the side and closed his eyes. John turns down the music for him, just a little bit.

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"Welcome to New York." Sam read the words out loud when he caught sight of the sign as their car zipped by it. "I learned once that New York's population is 18 million and New York City's population is about 8 million. I find that amazing, don't you?"

"Mmmm," Dean said absently, still half asleep.

"I also remember reading that NYC was the nation's capital until 1790. In the early 1900s, New York was the richest and most populated state and so was hit hardest during the Great Depression."

"There's more," said Sam after a few seconds; nothing but the sound of the working engine was heard. "During the Civil war…"

"So Sam," John interrupted.

_'Here we go, and not too soon,'_ Dean thought as he sat up and turned around to wink at Sam who scowled back.

John kept his eyes on the road. "Is it true? You 'know almost everything there is to know'?"

Sam winced, knowing his Dad is talking about their earlier conversation during breakfast. "Yeah, Dad...I had sex ed taught to me once in school."

Dean smirked at Sam. "You got an A in that class thanks to me."

"It wasn't a class...it was a seminar...you don't get a grade."

"Whatever, geek...I remember seeing you reading the sex 101 book the day you got it and you didn't look up once until you were done..."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, God."

"...you even skipped watching X-Files."

"Shut up, Dean. It was much better than those magazines you read."

"A couple of which are mysteriously missing by the way."

Sam scoffed at that. "Yeah, right..."

"I know you kept a couple of them, Sammy..." Dean started laughing softly. "...and put them to good use...I've got very good hearing you know. At least you cleaned up after!"

Sam simply glared back at him and Dean grew serious. "Do you still have them?"

John cleared his throat and shot his gaze into the rear view mirror for a second, making eye contact with Sam. "Okay. So that means you're cool...you don't need me to tell you that I don't want to hear I'm a grandpa or that I have to take you for clinic visits...are we clear?"

"Yes sir" Sam said with a hint of exasperation which John also ignored.

"Well, that was easy," John murmured. "No 'we're never anywhere long enough to get to know a girl' from you?"

"No sir."

"Time is relative...It's all about quality, not quantity." said Dean

"No shit, I've seen you...acting like a lonely puppy, women can't seem to resist," Sam teased.

"No, Sam, that's you...you're the king of puppy-dog eyes. Remember, it's _me_ they can't resist...they're always sorry to see me go...I give them what they want and so I get the..."

"What about you, Dad?" Sam interjected. "I've never see you going on a date...How come?"

John answered, "Nevermind…now both of you go to sleep before I get a damn headache."

The brothers shared a look of truce then Dean turned on his side while Sam stretched out onto his back.

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Keeping his eyes on the road, John observed his sons' compliance with his peripheral vision. Only then did he permit his thoughts to freely surge forward. _'I've slept with other women, sure...I do remember one of them was Kate, but that's all...there's no one who compares to Mary...God, I miss her...'_ and his eyes started to sting as the memories of his wife prevailed, taking over one by one while his son's slept and the miles went by.


	6. Chapter 6

Wandering around in the past, only part of John perceived that he was somewhere in Pennsylvania, driving along route 80, and that the sun was shining more so into his eyes than before—he was forced to look a little off to the side. There was a clear sky, blue like_...'Mary's eyes...'_

_He heard Mary's footsteps approaching and gazed up from his newspaper to watch her stride, with blonde hair bouncing in time, purposefully into their living room. She stopped right in front of him; her face bright, bursting with elation. __Turning her eyes directly to his, she announced in earnest, "John, the angels are smiling down upon us!" _

_Mary's vivacity was contagious. He was definitely done reading for the day; his body quivered with quiet laughter as he folded the paper. "Angels! Hah!...What are these '_angels'_ smiling about anyway?"_

_"Because..." her smile grew wider "…we're gonna have a baby!" _

_John suddenly felt limp as blood drained from his face. His hands were trembling when he dropped his newspaper on the floor. "We're gonna have a baby?" he squeaked. "You're pregnant?" _

_Mary's shining eyes continued to stare at him, her expression hopeful. "Well, last I heard, you had to be pregnant to have a baby," she quipped._

_"We're gonna have a baby," he whispered in awe as he stood, feeling the corners of his eyes crinkling as he broke into a smile. Joyousness steadily swelled inside him mixed with feelings of apprehension fluttering throughout his stomach._

_She stepped closer, invited him into her arms and he went willingly; her body was so warm. John shut his eyes and breathed in her wonderful lilac scent. The feelings of uncertainty vanished instantly; he felt like he was floating and sighed with pleasure. She then spoke softly, her breath tickling his ear, "I _know_ you'll be a great dad."_

"Dad." Fingers touched his right shoulder gently from behind. '_Sam_…' he realized, shaking his head _'…Mary's gone._'

"Dad!" Louder this time.

Dean perceived Sam was only impatient. Having to call their dad more than once to get his attention, especially during driving, was nothing new.

"What the hell time is it?" John responded gruffly.

Sam leaned back onto his seat. "About 4:00. Can we pull over for a little while and walk around?"

Dean scoffed at that. "What Sam really means is that he needs to take a piss."

"Shut up...So do you!"

Dean merely chuckled quietly.

John, showing neither exasperation nor humor, said, "Fine, we'll stop at the first gas station I see."

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It didn't take long for a sign to appear roadside indicating _fuel_ was off the next exit. Following the arrows, John guided the car to the average self-serve station complete with a run-down looking mini-mart and pulled up next to one of its eight gas pumps. This facility was in the middle of nowhere and they were currently the only customers.

Each man exited the car then simultaneously stretched, deeply inhaling the hot, sun-infused air—the scent of petrol prevailed but a bit of vegetation was detected as well. They took a closer look at the surrounding forest; green leaves shaking in the breeze created a captivating display of shade and sparkling light.

Catching his sons' eyes, John said simply, "You've got ten minutes, max."

"C'mon...lets go mark our territory," Dean declared, a grin appearing upon his face when he saw Sam's irritated expression. They walked expeditiously over to the forest, each veering off in their own direction.

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A couple of minutes later, Dean stepped out from the trees. He scanned the area, searching for Sam out of habit, while sauntering toward their car. Dean sighed when he saw there was no sign of him; as quick as a light switch is flicked off, his cheerful frame of mind became sullen.

Dean consequently noticed that a light blue Honda Accord had pulled into the station, apparently during the time he was elsewhere. It was parked at a pump farthest from theirs, about twenty feet away. He briefly made eye contact with a man who stood beside the Honda, filling its tank. Taking a closer look, this man, with short blond hair appearing to be in his early forties, quickly cast his eyes downward. Dean presumed he was hiding the embarrassment of having witnessed a stranger walking out of the forest. "You can't tell me you never had to drain the lizard in the middle of nowhere before," he muttered sarcastically to himself.

Dean's handsome face was marred by a frown and followed by a clenched jaw; Sam had still not appeared by the time he made it to his destination point. His eyes lit up slightly as he then focused on their car. _'Hey, baby_,' he purred softly. Knowing it's tank was down to a quarter full, he welcomed the distraction of fueling it up and fished for his wallet to start the process.

While standing by, Dean continuously kept checking the perimeter with eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. An elderly man and woman came into view, casually walking around one area off to the right. Mingling with the sound of rustling leaves, their voices penetrated his awareness, the conversation too distant to make out.

A cloud floated in front of the sun and slightly obscured its light and heat thereby causing Dean to pull his arms in closer when a strong breeze blew past. Suddenly, he felt the back of his neck tingle and the chill ran down his spine; someone was watching him. Dean whipped his head around to his left then right but didn't see anything unusual. He did, however, catch a glimpse of the blonde man as he disappeared into the forest which elicited a wry expression.

With each minute passing of no "Sammy sighting", as Dean often affectionately referred to it, his chest became tighter and tighter. '_For your sake, you had better be only just walking around,' _he thought_. ''coz if you're not okay, I'll kick your ass.' _In his mind he could hear Sam return with, _'dude, that doesn't make any sense_.' Dean shook his head and mentally added, _'I just want you to be okay._'

Out of the corner of his left eye, Dean saw John appear, glance at him then proceed to enter the mini-mart. He visually tracked his father until he passed through the door and was brought up short as the window next to the entrance revealed a female store clerk standing there, just staring directly at him. She was an older looking woman with dark hair pulled back but he couldn't make out much more of her appearance through the dirty glass. Unable to tear his gaze away, she leered at him with the most toothy grin he ever recalled seeing. _'Now I feel dirty_,' he mused with a shudder. She then waved.

The loud _thunk_ sounding from the nozzle that indicated the tank was now full shook him out of his stupor. _'Maybe it was her giving me the creeps just now,' _he thought_. 'Really, t__he people we see sometimes...' _He bent forward to remove it and when he glanced back to the window, he was gratified that she was no longer facing him.

As Dean was putting the hose back on the pump—about ready to start a frantic search for a missing little brother—Sam finally exited the woods from a location different than the one he entered. Dean wanted to run over to him, throttle him and hug him at the same time. He did neither.

Blowing out a steadying breath, pressure in his chest was relieved. Dean tried as best he could to seem casual as the kid calmly approached.

"Walking around again?" Dean mentally kicked himself over hearing the higher than normal pitch of his voice but Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Obviously_,"_ Sam snapped as he opened the door to the back seat then peaked at his brother. He couldn't mistake the turbulent expression on Dean's face; he seemed to be slightly out of breath as well. "Are you pissed you had to fill the tank again? Dad did say we had ten minutes."

"No, that's not it," Dean growled.

Sam then paused and took a closer look across the car. Dean's eyes revealed fear circulating beneath his outward irritation. Sam swallowed. "Hey, what is it?"

Dean simply looked down, shrugged his shoulders and started his way around the car, visually checking the tires. Though the dreadful feeling of being watched was not forgotten, nothing currently seemed out of place and Dean now felt foolish for worrying unecessarily. He heard Sam sigh and ask, "Well, where's Dad?"

Without looking up, Dean gestured toward the store.

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John could barely keep a hold on all the items he picked out as he reached the front counter to pay. The clerk looked up and smiled. It was her eyes that made John pause, they hinted at as much depth as those of a dead fish.

"Those boys near the black car yours?" the middle-aged woman asked as she started ringing up the merchandise and placing the items in a bag.

"Yes," John replied absently, looking, anywhere but directly at the clerk before him, now through the window and focused on Dean leaning against the hood of their car.

"Fine looking young men...Mmmm Mmmm...indeed...practically edible..."

John whipped his head around and raised his eyebrows at at her. "What?"

"...that'll be $10.36," the clerk said. The woman's smile expanded to reveal her back molars.

He shook his head trying to clear it and wordlessly placed down a $20 bill. "You look like you're on a road trip," she said while counting the change. "Where are you all headed to?"

"We're..." A flickering light to his left caught his attention..."there seems to be something happening with the wiring."

"Oh, dear me," the clerk said as she handed him his money. Her smile flashed and she said nothing more.

John once again quirked up his eyebrows but his only thought was, _'we meet the strangest people sometimes._' He decided simply to nod his thanks as he turned to exit.

"See you in Henderson," she whispered behind her teeth when he pushed through the door.

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Dean, having accomplished his task of checking the tires, reached the front of the car and chose there to wait for his dad. The sun was back as he gazed out at the pleasant forest; however, that and the warmth softened by occasional cool breezes ruffling his hair did nothing to alleviate his recent misgivings. _'What's to talk about?_' Dean suddenly contemplated with bitterness. _'I freaked out again, so what? The three of us, that's all I have.'_

Dean was startled out of his thoughts and jerked slightly forward with the sudden revival of the Honda's engine. Looking around to his right, he noticed the older couple climbing in before it drove away. He then lifted his gaze, watched as another cloud passed over the sun and trembled at the slight drop in temperature.

A glance over his left shoulder showed Sam sitting on the back seat, his door left open; more than that, he was under his little brother's surveillance. Dean wasn't at all surprised.

He leaned back against the hood and sighed to himself; he knew Sam would be thinking about him. __'I'm sure he'll want to talk about this,' __he realized which elicited an odd mix of him cringing and feelings of affection_. __'Maybe I should let him know I was worried about him...the last thing I want is to have Sammy think I am pissed at him when I'm not...that's Dad's style...having one person who acts this way in the family is enough.'_

Moments later, John came out from the store and briskly made his way to join his sons. He was carrying a bag filled with items he had purchased from there and handed it to Dean who promptly straightened up his position.

Dean peaked inside. "When can we stop to eat some real food?"

"Hang on until we cross the state line, it will help me feel like we're making progress" John replied as he continued past his son. "Let's go."

Dean remained rooted in his position, heard Sam close his door and watched his dad about to open the door to the driver's seat. "Don't you want me to drive?"

John shook his head. "Just go to the front seat...you can drive next."

Nothing was said as John, focused only on getting back onto the highway, steered the car out of the gas station. Dean proceeded to take out a package of cookies, a bottle of water, and the _Time_ magazine from the bag then turned around and wordlessly handed it to Sam.

"Thanks."

Dean nodded and quickly whirled back to face the front before he could see Sam's anticipated reaction. He then popped a cookie into his mouth and bent his head down to read his magazine.

Sam opened the bag and saw what was inside._ 'Huh...he usually takes the donuts,' _Sam observed and, suddenly, his head jerked back up. The declaration was immediately clear; if Dean had stated outright, "I love you," Sam would have said, "Christo." A rush of affection for his big brother swelled within him. __'I love you, too, Dean,' __Sam thought while staring at Dean's back__ '...and __I'd die for you.'__

Dean was unable to focus on his magazine; he was distracted by the sensation of Sam's eyes on his back. He then had a feeling Sam was about to speak. _'Oh God, kill me now...please don't say _"Are you okay?"'

"Dean?"

"What?"

Sam contemplated his brother with his solemn eyes. "I just was wondering if you wanted some of the donuts."

Dean quirked his eyebrows. _'Sam understands me better than I thought.'_

They each exchanged a knowing smile and Dean replied, "Naw, Sammy, I'm good...thanks anyway." He then shifted his position back to facing the front.

'__I knew Dean wasn't pissed at me,' __Sam acknowledged to himself with relief. Still looking at the figure before him, he determined, _'Dean worries too much,' _and shook his head sadly_. 'This has got to change, for his sake...I've got to do something...but what?...maybe he'd be better off if you were dead.' _Sam was shaken at that last thought; he never considered hurting himself before—it was almost as if the suggestion had been whispered to him.

Sam looked one last time at Dean before turning to gaze out the window. Watching the flow of scenery and other cars, Sam contemplated his reality._ 'It's too late for_ "things would be better if I'd never been born"..._If I died, that would hurt him more, not help him...maybe if I left..._' It wasn't the first time Sam had considered going his own way; doing something besides hunting had been in the back of his mind since he was fourteen, thanks to his English teacher, Mr. Wyatt. He then closed his eyes and smiled as he imagined himself in a library, surrounded by books.

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In their car, running at a smooth clip back on the highway, the Winchesters were quiet; Dean was reading his magazine, Sam dozed, and John, while trying to focus on driving, was silently coping with his desire to slaughter a certain supernatural creature. _'That's just fucking great,'_ he thought. _'That fucking flickering light and that fucking woman back at the gas station dug into me somehow_.' John almost let out loud rage-filled roar but checked it.

Since leaving the gas station, John had been doing his best to recapture pleasant memories of his wife. Instead, he thought back to that horrible night, about that thing responsible for her murder. Mary's hopeful eyes he remembered from thirty minutes prior were replaced with his recollection of her terror filled ones. While watching the road, his brown eyes were windows to a tempest of fury. If looks could kill, all the insects would be dead before they hit the windshield.

John inhaled deeply and realized he must have been holding his breath. He then imagined Sam's soft voice directing him to _"Breathe..."_ and he exhaled. He needed to just focus on driving—just get to the next place in one piece; therefore, he welcomed his second son's often repeated advice. "..._Breathe," _he heard Sam say once more and he inhaled again.

John was feeling better. _'Well, sort of_...' he amended. Suddenly his ears detected a distinctive sound coming from above. He gazed up, off to his left, and caught sight of a helicopter chugging along. Seeing it triggered the memory that there was a heliport near Pastor Jim's church; John enjoyed watching the flying machines go by during his visits there. _'Maybe I'll call upon Jim when we're done with this job...it's been too long since I've seen him...last time I was there Dean was fourteen, Sam was ten...'_

_John and Jim were sitting on a bench outside, behind the pastor's church. They were wordlessly waiting for the helicopter to move away from them, taking it's loud motor with it, so they could resume their conversation. _

_"Sam and Dean have been talking among themselves about what they think __you've been up to these past few weeks," Jim said to John once the flying machine drifted away far enough. "They know it has something to do with that thing that killed Mary." _

_"Mary..." John whispered. He___ stared off toward the nearby playground; a_ll he wanted now was to watch Dean push Sam on a swing and think of Mary in peace. _

_"It's tough to solve something when all leads are cold," Jim prompted after a minute of respectful silence. "Anything new with __those other kids?" _

_John wordlessly shook his head. There was still nothing__ unusual with them; Jim already knew as much as he did. One child was adopted as a newborn, the other wasn't. There was no pattern except for the child's age. It seemed as though he hit a dead end and John sighed. _

_He turned to look at Jim. "No, they are still just normal kids...obviously doing very well in school...but still, nothing else out of the ordinary."_

_"What kept you away so long this time?" Jim asked in earnest, with no trace of vexation._

_"I saw the Miller father was beating the kid...often," John replied. "Let's just say I knocked some sense into him. After, he took off with his family so I followed...stayed long enough to ensure the kid would be okay and looked after by the proper officials."_

_John glanced back at Sam, saw him now running toward a slide. "Jim, it scares me to know these kids were the same age as Sam," he confessed. _The whole thing sickened him. Feeling like the world was spinning, John leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.__

_Jim's silence gave John the time he needed to come to terms with his grief, still so raw; still drowning. The minutes went on..._

_The roaring in his ears gradually subsided and the sweetness of his sons' laughter penetrated his awareness. Instantly, John realized he wasn't the only one facing this loss; it pulled him from misery to rage in a split second._

_Unable to contain his deep anger, John gripped his hair hard enough to elicit pain. "You know, the identical pattern of the kids' ages tells me there is some plotted out scheme...it had to have done something to Sam…those other kids…had to...why else would it let them live?" he spat. _

_Pastor Jim furrowed his eyebrows. "John, like you, I don't have all the answers...I wish I knew..." _

_The helicopter had circled and was on its way back to their location; it's rotating blades' repetitive thumping gradually increased in steady increments. Jim was interrupted by the helicopter's booming clamor as it reverberated over their heads._

_John straightened and determied he would not give up. "One thing I do know," he shouted over the helicopter as it passed overhead "...is that it will return someday. I can feel it in my gut...and when it does..." he gestured toward his sons "...we'll be ready." _

_John and Jim shared a candid stare; there were no lies between them. John could see by his friend's expression that Jim understood; that his words were a death sentence - the early end of a tough, sad life - for the Winchesters. _

_He broke eye contact with the pastor to spend the rest of the time watching Dean and Sam play. For now, he let the helicopter's sound thunder in his ears and take over his mind, causing him to be unable to hear himself think._

As distance grew between the Impala and the helicopter, it's loud choppy whir faded into the sound of their car engine's thick rumble. John was back to driving, knuckles white from clutching the wheel so tightly_._

_'Goddammit! I'm still no fucking closer today than I was then!'_ John glanced up to the rearview mirror to see his younger son lying on the back seat, currently oblivious to the world. With eyes close to tears, he thought, _'Shit, Sammy...what does that fucking thing want with you_?'


	7. Chapter 7

'_I_ _don't know_ _how long it's been exactly...all I know is that I gave my one last granola bar to Sam.' _His arms were crossed gently over his abdomen for Dean was feeling slightly nauseous; it was one of the effects he suffered from when having not eaten hour after hour. Breathing slow and deep helped ease the discomfort somewhat but he knew it would only be temporary. Dean glanced at his father's profile and reflected,_ 'He's got that tight face...whatever Dad's thinking about, it isn't good...n__o need to remind him about eating just yet.'_

At the ages when his sons were capable of comprehending, John made it known in no uncertain terms that, unless there was an extremely important matter which couldn't wait, he be allowed to just drive in peace.

Dean and Sam got older and, respectively, they not only shared in the driving more and more, but increasingly assisted in hunting the supernatural. Contributing in this way induced John to gradually relax his "no talking while I'm behind the wheel" rule. Nevertheless, the boys still complied out of habit and a good majority of the time spent in the car consisted of self-imposed silence.

On this part of their journey John happened to be systematically reviewing all he had learned over the years about the thing that killed Mary. Though he had it all memorized, John cataloged _almost_ everything - intentionally left out what he knew about the other children like Sam - on this particular investigation. These notes were kept apart from his journal, in a folder at Bobby Singer's place, with instructions to pass it on to his sons should he be killed.

Going over the whole bit in his mind led John to realize what he wanted to do once this hunt was done. He decided that enough time had been spent dealing with random supernatural entities and picking up the trail of Mary's murderer was now long past due. He concluded to himself,_ 'the boys will lie low at Jim's place. I'll meet up with Bobby and hash out some new leads._'

Meanwhile, John's more immediate promise to Dean - that they would stop for food once in the next state - was never far from his mind. Nearing the end of Pennsylvania, the groans from his empty stomach grew steadily stronger. However, he was unwilling to even consider being shortsighted and, as a test of strength for all parties involved, held out for Ohio.

Once that state line was crossed, John found he could think of nothing else but of going somewhere to get food. _'It's been over 10 hours since we ate anything much_,' the father rationalized as he caught a glimpse of his oldest son—Dean was practically squirming. _'Yeah...time to stop soon._'

It was not long before John spotted the exit he wanted. "I know a place we can eat...just hang on a little longer guys."

He heard Dean let out an exhale of relief and, from somewhere behind him, a whispered "Thank God!"

Once off the highway, the sun's imminent disappearance past the horizon was more noticeable for the numerous trees along the isolated road created such lingering shadows. John flipped on the headlights and about a minute later, a sign with the words "The Sawed-Off Saloon" was illuminated before them. Below it was an arrow that indicated motorists needed to take a right turn.

Dean swiveled his head side to side with an astonished expression. "There's no other business around...where the hell else would anyone turn_?" _

John's mouth curled slightly in silent agreement as he maneuvered their car off the road. The loose gravel crunched under the Impala's tires until he put the engine in park just outside the front entrance_._

In scanning the lot a frown returned to his face. Though John was relieved to see that it was practically deserted, for he was too tired to put more than a handful of people under the microscope, he was aware they would stand out more._ 'If it's not one thing, it's another,'_ he observed grimly.

Meanwhile, Dean was troubled that his brother hadn't predictably ridiculed him over his rhetorical question. He leaned over to the back and asked, "Sammy? You still with us?"

Sam was lying on his side and glanced up. "Yeah, I'm with you...you're a friggin' dumbass, okay?"

"That was lame, Sammy, even for you. Well, we're here...time to eat," Dean soothed.

Having turned off the engine, John heard Sam haul himself up. "Dad, have you been here before? You sure this place is alright?"

John sighed at the predictable inquiry. Keeping his eyes forward, he said, "Sam, I have been here before, this place will be suitable...there are no cameras and the people who come here also like to avoid attention...if there's any problem, I'll handle it."

Sam hoped, for the sake of those inside, there wouldn't be any trouble.

"That's good enough for me," Dean said as he reached for his door then, half in jest, asked, "hey, Sammy, do you need us to carry you inside?"

"Shut up, Dean."

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Dean was the first to jump out of the car and swiftly started toward the restaurant. _'I am so fucking hungry!...ten beautiful, naked women smiling at me couldn't stand in my way,_' he speculated as he reached for the door. Pulling it open, the nineteen year old paused..._'what the hell am I talking about? Of course they could!_' In an attempt to get the lewd image out of his mind before his body could react, he shook his head and stepped inside.

The interior, shouting dreary with its dark brown paneling was made more so by the lack of sunlight. The establishment was divided into two sections; the one he was standing in contained the seating for dining and within the area off to his left, he spotted a few pool tables.

Dean immediately noted a couple of men sitting at the bar before him, nursing their beers, and off to his right a middle-aged group, two men and two women, sat in a booth eating their meal. He shot his best _'what the hell are you looking at'_ expression to those who angled their faces in his direction; immediately they all broke eye contact and spun their heads back around.

Dean didn't mind the scrutiny but knew it bothered Sam. _'All clear_, _Sammy_,' he asserted to himself as his dad and brother passed through the door behind him.

"Seat yourselves where you like..." called out a female voice that belonged to a woman as she peaked through what seemed to be the kitchen door. She was in her twenties with light brown skin and hair cropped close to her head; her appearance briefly elicited an expression of approval from the nineteen year old.

Following Dean, the Winchesters strolled single file, passed the group in the booth, to the furthest table.

"Just get me what you're getting," John said before he veered off toward the men's room.

Even though he himself was operating on reserves, once seated opposite each other, Dean sympathized over Sam's sluggish demeanor. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "I will be. Just knowing we'll eat soon helps."

The boys simultaneously picked up their menus and, as they read, noticed that the place was virtually silent but for the muffled conversation coming from those at the far booth.

Dean's face lit up a few seconds later. "Awesome," he whispered.

Unable to contain himself, Sam immediately grinned and he put down his menu. "I know what you see...apple fucking pie. You're so damn easy."

Dean's eyes sparkled, still looking at his menu. "Oh, yeah," he said in a lasciviously low voice.

"I also know you're gonna get the bacon cheeseburger."

"Don't you mean 'bacon-fucking-cheese-burger?'"

"Just tell me if I'm right."

Dean set his menu down, to find his brother looking sharply at him. "Okay...guilty...jeez, you're touchy when you're hungry...truth is, I'm thinkin' I want to get twenty burgers and a whole pie...but..."

"...you won't."

"I won't," Dean confirmed. "I know my limits." He then switched his gaze to look behind Sam, indicating someone was approaching.

Dean tilted his head up and flashed bright eyes to acknowledge the woman as she appeared by their table; it was the same one who first spoke to them. "I'm Sylvia. How're you doin' tonight?"

"I'm great," Dean said, smiling wickedly.

"_We're_ fine, thanks," Sam added with a glare at Dean that conveyed _'what the hell are you doing?_'

Dean shrugged his shoulders and mouthed "what?" back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Do you know what you want or do you need more time?" she asked as she looked shyly down at her notepad.

"I'm all set...I'll get two bacon cheeseburgers, coffee, and apple pie...if you have it..." started Dean.

"We do," she said with obvious gratitude that her customer stuck to polite dialogue. She then changed her position and looked expectantly to Sam. Dean was the only one not distracted enough to notice John coming near.

"I'll have the same," said Sam while looking straight at her and she returned a smile. "And my dad..."

"...will have what they're having..." said John.

"Oh!" Sylvia stammered then jumped, startled over his sudden appearance beside her.

"...except for the coffee," he added. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"That's alright."

She stepped aside to let John get to his seat which he chose to be next to Dean, back toward the wall. She gathered up the menus and stated, "I'll be back with some water."

John's rapid return - quicker than expected - coupled with his silence communicated the "all clear". Therefore, Dean carried on as customary and smirked at Sam. "What, no tofu broccoli bean salad instead?"

Sam only scowled in response then slid his chair back to stand. After he took a couple of steps toward the rest room, John noticed that the younger of the two men shifted one of his legs as if he was preparing to get up. Quietly, John cleared his throat and imperceptibly nodded his head toward the bar.

Dean caught the signal and immediately jumped up. Not one to follow his brother going into a bathroom, he breezed by Sam to reach the door first.

Sam stopped short, sighed toward the ceiling and thought, _'jeez, I'm _fifteen_...when will they ever let me grow up?_' Not wanting to create a scene, he then resumed his stride, purposely ignoring the brief hooded stare of the men as he passed by.

John watched his sons until they were out of sight and eased his posture when it was clear both men were staying seated_. 'Thanks Dean_,' he thought. _'I can always count on you.'_

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Coming out of the restroom, Dean's eyes went right to their table and saw his dad sitting there, head bent forward, fingertips massaging his temples.

"Sammy'll be right out...he sure does wash his hands thoroughly," Dean quipped once he arrived at his seat.

John nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

Dean frowned. "How are you doing Dad?"

"I'm fine."

"Come on, Dad…the truth."

John straightened his back slightly and faced forward, squinting despite the darkened atmosphere. "Okay, I'm tired." He then turned to Dean who had since seated himself. "I drove longer than I planned on." John's stare turned inward and he said wistfully, "I'm not the same person I was twenty years ago...then, I could drive twenty-four hours straight." His focus abruptly returned back to his son. "You'll have to drive next."

As his father was speaking, Dean had noticed his brother heading toward them. "Of course," he replied slightly louder than necessary so Sam would hear and ask...

"Of course, what?"

Dean grinned. "Of course you're a pain in the ass."

Sam sat in his seat with a huff. "You're such a jerk, Dean."

Their attention was grabbed by the waitress who returned and set down three glasses. "Here's some water for y'all..your food will be out shortly," she said then pointedly smiled again at Sam. "Thanks," he whispered, throat suddenly tight.

Sam's eyes tracked along with her retreating form; he surreptitiously watched her hips sway as she walked over to the patrons sitting at the bar. Immediately he picked up one of the glasses with a shaky hand and started to drink.

"Ah Sammy, here's some free advise...you'll never get far with a woman if you virtually pass out every time they lay their eyes on you," Dean observed before he took a swallow of water himself.

"I didn't almost pass out!"

Dean shrugged. Sam then turned toward their father and said, "Dad, you should drink some water, too...keeping hydrated helps headaches...I can tell you have one."

"So Sam, about what time do you expect we'll be out of Ohio?" John inquired as he reached for a glass.

"Should be around 11 pm."

"Well, I'll call Caleb sometime tomorrow to let him know we're well on our way."

_'And that's another thing...not only can't I go to the damn bathroom alone...Dad hides us from practically all other hunters_,' Sam thought and grumbled, "I could count on one hand the number of other hunters Dean and I've met."

John glanced at each of his sons then narrowed his eyes. "I have my reasons."

"Dude, control your PMS," Dean added.

Sam took a deep breath in and out. "Dad, can you tell us how you first met?"

After a few seconds of silence, John said, "I met him while I was at Pastor Jim's place...back in the winter of '91 or '92."

"I remember you once mentioned him for the first..."

Suddenly there was a crash of dishes that came from behind the kitchen door and they heard a female voice say, "Oh no!" followed by a string of colorful curses spoken by an irate man.

"...time around the beginning of January so it was definitely when you were away in December…so it was '91."

Sam could tell by the rustling nearby coupled with his dad and brother's standard rigid posture that the four people on the other side of the room had gotten up and were heading out the door.

John continued to speak once they were clear. "Right...he was passing through. We were introduced and I've been acquiring weapons from him ever since."

"Dad, will I get a...

Suddenly, Dean kicked Sam's leg under the table and shot him an expression that conveyed, _'shut up, the waitress is coming.'_

"...gun?" Sam finished in a whisper, rubbing his leg.

The waitress possessed an apologetic look on her face as she set down two plates, one in front of Sam and the other between Dean and John. "I'm so sorry to say but I dropped one of your plates in the kitchen...more burgers are being started but will be a few minutes...I am really sorry."

John pushed his plate toward Dean and said, "That's okay, we'll take them to go."

"Oh, you know what, let me get another plate and you can each start with one of the burgers."

"Sounds awesome," Dean said sarcastically. Sam inconspicuously stomped on Dean's foot under the table, partly for payback, and they quickly glared at each other before looking off into different directions.

John silently moaned then added, "we'll take the check now, too."

"Sure, here ya go," she reached in a pocket and plunked it face down. "just let me know if there's anything else I can get you."

"Our coffee and pie?" Dean asked.

"Oh, yeah! I'm so sorry," she answered with a nervous giggle and rushed back to the kitchen.

"Dad, I should get a gun," Sam stated.

"Sam," Dean warned, then gently shook his head.

"What?"

"Just, let's eat," John said tiredly.

His father suddenly appeared to Sam as a young boy; filled with sympathy at his dad's devitalized state, he pushed his plate over to him. "It's okay, Dad," Sam said softly. "You haven't slept yet. You eat everything now so you can sleep right away in the car...I'll have one of Dean's."

At that, John and Sam shared a rare smile and Dean relaxed his shoulders for the first time since arriving at the "Sawed-Off Saloon". Dean then he focused on his food.

"Huh," Dean said after taking a large bite. He tilted his chin toward the connecting room off to the right of him and, mouth full, said, "hey Sam, too bad no one is over there...you could have put your pool table skills to good use and earned us a few."

Before anyone could respond, the waitress appeared once again and set down a plate in front of Sam. "Here you go," she said then left quickly.

"I think she likes you," Dean said around another mouthful to Sam who reached for the untouched second burger. "Maybe she's looking for something in return...more than a tip."

John swallowed and said, "that's enough, Dean, she seems to be just a nice girl. As for hustling, there wouldn't be any time anyway and we need all our cash...we don't have enough for a good hustle. Sam, tell Dean the route you planned…he's definitely gonna drive next."

"We're in Ohio, just off route 70, so next will be Indianna then Illinois - route 70 then route..."

"'Route' is such a funny sounding word, especially when you say it."

"...71." Sam delivered Dean a sour look. "Come on, Dean...then get on to route…"

"Whoa, slow down there, Jason Bourne...one state at a time. You and Dad and your friggin' photogenic memories."

"It's _photographic_ memories."

Dean shook his head. "Man I hate long road trips...I just wish we could be there already."

"Like the transporters in Star Trek?" Sam said, perking up.

"You're such a friggin' geek...you'd never get me into one of those things...no damn way...no one is depolarizing my body!"

"Calm down, Dean...I don't think your great-great grandkids would even have to worry...such technology is not possible."

"Okay, Sam. Just shut up and eat."

The waitress had delivered the coffee and pie promptly and the Winchesters hurried through the rest of their meal in silence. Toward the end, she returned to place a paper bag, already starting to soak through with grease, on their table.

"Y'all have a great night."

_'Oh fucking great,' _thought Sam at once._ 'I'm not eating that_.' He then picked up the bill after the waitress left. "Hey, she didn't charge us for these cheeseburgers."

"She wrote that check before she dropped them, Sammy...like I said, she may be expressing an interest."

John twisted slightly to reach for his wallet behind him. "Hmm...that reminds me, Sam...when it's light out again, add in two stops...Springfield, Illinois and Boulder, Colorado."

"Why those places?"

"I have PO Boxes rented out there."

"We're really short on cash...again?"

"Just do what you're told Sam, without the attitude." John then instantly stood up, plunked down some money onto the table, grabbed the bag and marched toward the exit without looking back.

Sam turned toward Dean, his eyes wide in earnest. "I didn't give him an attitude!"

"You may think you didn't but you did."

"What? How?" he asked heatedly.

"Let's just go Sam." Dean said with a tired sigh, pushing himself out of his chair.

Sam followed his brother as he made his way out. "I am not selfish...I hardly own anything, I hardly ask for anything...I never complained once when we leave all my books and stuff behind."

_'So it does bother him after all,_' Dean thought. "Sam, I didn't say you're selfish, just cut Dad some slack is all."

"Maybe if he didn't spend so much on booze..." Sam mumbled.

Dean pushed through the door and didn't bother to hold it for Sam. It was virtually dark out when they headed back to the car where their father was waiting for them. Sam purposefully strode to the back door, opened it, and climbed partially in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked. "I'm driving you know, you're up front with me."

Sam straightened back up, toothbrush and paste in one hand, bottle of water in another. "Just need a couple of minutes...I want to brush my teeth."

Dean pointed at the white paper bag now on the roof of the car. "You've got another cheeseburger there."

Sam turned away as he said, "you can have it...I'm not hungry anymore."

Dean looked to his dad who had ambled over to the trunk, rummaged through his duffel bag, and straightened up with his own toothbrush in hand.

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With very few other cars in the vicinity, Dean relied heavily on the Impala's headlights to guide him as he sped along the pitch dark highway. He had since finished the other two cheeseburgers and, physically satisfied, settled in for a long stretch by turning on his Led Zepplin cassette tape, volume kept just loud enough to be heard over the throaty engine.

Behind him, John snored softly and steadily. A strong essence of alcohol emanated from him - it was all that remained of the liquor his father previously consumed. The empty bottle had just fallen from John's slack hand when the car bounced over bump in the road and it joined the cheeseburger wrappers on the floor. Relishing the scent of whiskey that permeated throughout their car's interior, Dean breathed in and out contentedly.

When one of his favorite songs ended, Dean glanced to his right. Sam, who had not said a word since leaving the restaurant, remained fixed in his position, doing nothing but staring out his window. The fraction of his face Dean could see was cast in a greenish hue lit by the soft dashboard lights.

Dean cleared his throat. "This was the state where I first kissed a girl...I'll never forget it."

Taken by surprise, Sam jolted slightly. He faced Dean as a tiny smile developed. "Dude, I'll say it again...you're like practically thinking about sex all the time."

"Guilty as charged," Dean replied. "Once you do it, you never can go back."

John suddenly let out a loud gasping snore which reverberated all around them. "Shit!" Dean yelped and reflexively pushed the brake causing the car to falter.

Realizing it was nothing but his dad, Dean resumed pressing the gas; Sam meanwhile whipped his head around to the back seat and saw his father sprawled out, mouth hanging open. Though the car's change of speed didn't cause John to awaken, he shifted his position and angrily muttered some unintelligeble phrase. The brothers looked at each other, both sets of eyes sparkling with amusement.

John stayed quiet after that. The brothers chuckled for a few seconds then Dean sighed and turned off the music. "What about you?"

Sam frowned. "Not yet."

"What about that girl back in Lincoln?"

"Nothing happened with her," Sam lied. "She basically told me to get lost…that her mother didn't allow her to talk to boys."

Dean glanced at him quickly and couldn't see Sam's face as he had returned to looking out the window. "Huh...well, don't let it get you down…I'm sure she was telling the truth…like I said before, I've seen you turn some heads."

"Thanks, Dean, for trying to make me feel better…it does and it means a lot to me, even if I don't show it."

"Dammit, Sam..." Dean started.

Sam turned back to face his brother and the smile reappeared. "Don't worry, we don't have to hug. Just want you to know Dad just gets to me sometimes and when I act mad it has nothing to do with you..."

Dean froze and clenched the wheel.

"It's okay...I can tell Dad is still sound asleep."

Dean quickly turned his head to the back seat, saw that Sam was right and relaxed. "Come on Sam...what have I told you before?...every time Dad is short with you or bossy it's his way of showing he cares about you."

Sam huffed in frustration; he had, in fact, heard these words many times before. "Yeah, I know."

"So you're good, right?"

"Right," Sam said simply.

"Anything else you want to talk about?"

"Besides sex?" Sam laughed. "You'd do that for me?"

"Sure. I am capable of thinking with my upstairs brain."

Sam looked down at his hands and after about a minute, said, "do you remember another first? You and Dad were hunting a werewolf…it was your first kill. You never really told me about that. How'd you deal with it?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason...just curious, you know."

"Well...it's just that it was coming at me and Dad and I just reacted...afterwards I just told myself that I killed something evil."

"You didn't freeze at all?"

"Not even for a second. Thanks to Dad...his training... I was more than ready."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "So you're happy with this life?"

"Definitely. I can't imagine not hunting...just going through life living normal."

Dean quickly glanced at Sam, saw his disappointed expression, then turned back to watch the road. "Come on Sam, we've lived this life our whole lives...it's too late for us to live differently."

"I'm starting to get that."

"I know. Back in Amherst it was the first time you focused more on hunting than school...I don't even know why you bothered with school at all...it was the last week before summer break."

"I just went to take the finals and have that on my record...keep my options open. Hey! I didn't think you even knew I was at school...all of your free time was thinking about that girl next door...Rhonda Hurley?"

"Mmmm," Dean murmured then shook his head and came back to the present. "I noticed! I remember everyone at school looking at you like you had two heads...showing up as a new kid the last week of school."

"Whatever."

"So are you gonna give up school?"

"I think so...I'd hate it if I wasn't prepared if something came up."

"You know, hunting means moving a lot...you hate that."

"I remember that for you it's the opposite...remember that time Dad was too injured to travel..."

"For weeks!" Dead added, horrified at the memory. "Man, I was miserable"

"...you actually had to get a job and when you weren't working, had gone out for target practice or to run for hours every day to keep from going stir crazy." Sam realized that he wasn't the only one to sacrifice and felt better - just a little. "I guess if I don't stick with school, moving around a lot won't be so bad." Sam paused for a moment. "Dean, why did you just bring up one of the things I hate about hunting?"

"I don't know...what else do you hate?"

"I really hate being left behind...worrying about you and Dad when you're gone."

Dean's jaw clenched. "Sam, you know Dad plans on involving you more in this hunt...not just research."

Because of his brother's strained tone, Sam looked at Dean and saw his eyebrows furrowed in the muted dashboard light. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"This is fucked up Sam," Dean blurted out. "I don't think you're ready."

"What? Why not? I'm fifteen now, the age when you first killed..."

"Yeah but I got a bad feeling about this one."

"Dean, you worry too much...back at that gas station, you were freaking out when I didn't come back right away..."

"Yeah, but it was because I had a weird feeling back there, like I was being watched."

"Why didn't you say something? Did you see anything?"

"No...it was over so fast...except there was that friggin' crazy cashier...well, now I don't know what happened." Dean shrugged his shoulders at Sam's uneasy expression. "The point is...I know you are good but...dammit! I guess what I am trying to say is if you're stupid enough to get yourself hurt, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Dean, you're not making any sense. I would think Mom wouldn't want you and me to live like this...to do what we're doing. That I would understand. But you? How can you say I should keep out of it?"

Sam waited for a response from Dean but it was clear he wasn't going to answer; Dean just kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel.

"I am ready...I will be careful. But you have to be careful too...just worry about yourself and we'll all be fine."

"You better get some rest, you might be driving next."

"Okay. You'll be alright? You can turn back on some music if you want."

Dean shook his head. "I'll be okay."

"Dean, remember what you said earlier...about kissing monsters?"

Dean glanced at Sam with a puzzled expression. "Okay, random...yeah, so?"

"Nevermind." Sam shifted onto his right side, pulled his knees up, and closed his eyes. "Wake me up if you need me to drive."

Dean shook his head then peaked at his dad in the rearview mirror_. 'Dad and Sam with their secrets...speaking of secrets_...' Rhonda Hurley came back into his thoughts and he felt a little twitch between his upper thighs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: to those who have been following this story, please know that I had revised the prologue.**

The darkness was more absolute on a highway void of other vehicles; there were not even any businesses or towns in the vicinity. _'Sam didn't tell me we'd be driving through Nowheres-ville, Ohio_," Dean reflected in an attempt to lighten his mood.

With only the car's headlights and soft greenish glow from the dashboard to illuminate his world, Dean could easily imagine there was no one left on earth. Though eerie, the thought wasn't enough for him to feel the need to wake his dad or brother.

Dean purposely kept the music off not just for them; the deep, easy breathing of his small family mixed with the rumble of the engine was a symphony to his ears.

He looked to his right and saw Sam curled on his side facing the passenger door. _'Good to see Sammy's not in the grip of some nightmare,_' Dean observed. Suddenly, that very same figure, silent a minute ago, let out a quiet moan and his arms started twitching_. 'Dammit, I spoke too soon.'_

"Sam! Hey!" Dean hissed. His brother roused just enough to turn toward his left and face him. He marveled at how Sam appeared to instantly calm down, tense features transformed into relaxed_._

That scene sparked a well-known warmth; it flowed through him every time Sam indicated that Dean made him feel safe, that Dean was doing his job.

A smile formed as Dean recalled not only how Sam was more into hunting and training but that he recently started copying the way he moved or what he ate. It was the biggest form of flattery to the big brother inside him. _'Now if I could just get him to like my music_,' he thought but his smile vanished when he glanced once again at Sam. _'I'd give it all up...would rather see him not having nightmares.'_

Suddenly, Dean heard his father stirring in the back and knew a break was about to be ordered.

"Dean, pull over for a minute," John said.

Sam awoke with their deceleration and added mid-stretch, "I have to go, too."

Dean smirked at the way Sam quickly opened the door and jumped out. "Walk, don't run," he joked then quirked an eyebrow as Sam, without turning around, crooked his elbow and graced him with an extended middle finger.

Leaning against the hood, arms folded across his chest, Dean watched with amusement as his father and brother carefully plucked their way through the tall grasses, barely visible once they stopped. _'Wow...from the back it's almost impossible to tell them apart now that they're the same height...it _would_ be virtually impossible if Sammy put on a little more weight.'_

They returned promptly after relieving themselves, guided by the car's interior light. Though John immediately crawled into the back seat, Sam remained outside, walking around the car to stretch his body during the few seconds while Dean took his turn only a few yards away.

"Let me drive for a while," said Sam as soon as Dean approached him. Without waiting for an answer, Sam strode around to the left of the car. "I don't want to sleep anymore."

Dean understood the motivation and, without saying a word, got in on the passenger side.

As Sam guided the car onto the highway, Dean looked over his left shoulder to check for traffic out of habit and a quick glimpse down to the seat behind him showed his Dad was already back asleep.

Dean shifted to face the front and he held back a groan as soon as he noticed Sam had taken one hand off the wheel to search for a radio station.

Sam turned his eyes to Dean, which were practically sources of light themselves, brilliant and playful. As much as Sam didn't care for Dean's musical tastes, he knew Dean hated his choices more.

"So where are we exactly," asked Sam while still turning the dial. Dean could swear Sam was trying not to laugh at him.

"We're in Ohio."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I figured that. I mean, are we on route 71 yet?"

"Promise to keep the music down and I'll tell you."

"You're such a jerk!"

"Okay…jeez…we're on route 71 now. Happy?"

"Yeah. So just shut up about my music...get some sleep or something."

"Nothing else to do," muttered Dean as he turned onto his right, squeezing his eyes shut to the sounds of classical music.

After a minute, it was no longer funny. Sam decided to stop torturing them both and changed the dial, stopping at the only other clear sounding station; _Is There Something I Should Know?_ was playing. Dean groaned this time but was finally able to sleep once Sam also adjusted the stereo to its lowest volume.

The nightmare Sam had just before they stopped a short time ago was still fresh in his mind - it had been the same one about Amy and her mother. _'_What the fuck am I gonna do? I gotta stop having these nightmares..._Dad and Dean are gonna get suspicious. Sooner or later, I'm going to end up letting something slip and they're gonna find out...then there will be hell to pay_._'_

He came to the unfortunate realization that the focus required of driving wasn't enough to prevent it all from flooding back. '_"Sam, you are a freak...so am I."' _He winced at hearing Amy's voice plague him once again.

Sam glanced to his right and verified that Dean had truly passed into the state of slumber. He really wished he didn't tell Dean to go to sleep; he _did_ need his big brother for some things after all.

Suddenly the music emerged as static. He sighed and switched off the car stereo in frustration_. 'It's just my luck,_' Sam then thought bitterly. _'Of all the girls around, the one that I wanted to meet turned out to be a monster.'_

_'"___Come with me, we can be freaks together,"' she said____. __

_'"I can't. I'm sorry,"' he had replied._

_"_You __can__ leave your family, that just wasn't the right time_," _a voice whispered. _"As for your nightmares, those two yahoos at that saloon gave me an idea."_

Sam whipped his head to look at Dean who hadn't moved; then with sweaty hands slipping slightly on the wheel, Sam nervously looked up at the rearview mirror but saw his father was asleep as well, lying peacefully on the back seat. There was nothing there.

Sam shook his head_. 'All this guilt must be making me hear things._'

Amy's face, just after he said he couldn't go with her, reappeared in his mind once again. It was her eyes he would always remember the most; they expressed a profound level of sadness.

It was then he knew why she stood out to him at the very beginning; it was because of her eyes. They had expressed such loneliness with which he was able to empathize.

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Policy was that Sam drove only at night, in isolated places or in an emergency situation. Though he was taller than most men, a closer look by some at the fifteen year old sitting behind the wheel may elicit suspicions the Winchesters didn't want to risk; a pull over was to be avoided at all costs. Despite the authentic look of Sam's license, scrutiny of it by an officer would reveal it had been tampered with, not to mention the fact that they had no insurance and, above all else, the arsenal in the trunk was best kept a secret.

They were now in Indiana about the time when the sun started to peak over the distant hills somewhere behind him. Sam pulled into a deserted rest stop effectively waking his father and brother. They didn't speak, simply moaned and groaned with each stretch.

"I'm hungry and we need some more water," Sam said just before Dean got out and stumbled around to the driver's side.

Dean peered at the dashboard. "And the fuel take is running low," he added in a raspy voice for not having been used in a few hours.

"First suitable place you see, you can stop," John replied. "You should know that this may be the last stop for food before we reach Henderson. What money we have left after will cover the gas for our car to get us there."

"What about the credit card stops in Illinois, Colorado?"

"There's no guarantee…there's never a guarantee," John shot back. "Besides, it won't be that much longer 'til we get to Caleb's."

The sky was overcast; low lying clouds hid the sun that was completely clear of the horizon when they spotted a sign with the McDonald's logo. A couple of minutes later, Dean took the next exit and easily found the fast food restaurant. When he pulled into the parking lot, it was peppered with a few other cars mostly being guided to the drive through.

John handed Dean a ten dollar bill. "I'll take the car to the gas station across the street and call Caleb," said John while they all got out of the car. "I'll meet you back here."

Once John got behind the wheel and drove off, the brothers went inside.

"How much did he give you?" asked Sam.

"Just enough."

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John found his boys standing on the curb - each had a bag in one hand while his oldest son juggled two of the three cups of coffee. Dean presented one of the coffee cups to him then made his way around the front of the car and slid into the passenger seat. Sam got in back, inadvertently kicking at the empty bottle of whisky in the process, and thought, _'Dad pretty much can't sleep anymore without drinking first._'

"So, did Caleb say anything?" asked Dean with a mouthful.

"He didn't answer...I left a message. Sam, when you are done eating, you should sleep," said John after a sip of coffee.

"I'm okay."

Dean turned with a glare that conveyed, 'don't piss Dad off...he's out of whiskey.'

Sam modified his opinion and grudgingly said, "Yes sir." He then handed over a piece of paper to his brother. "We should be in Illinois soon...while Dean was driving just now, I wrote the directions that will take us to Springfield then onto Denver then to Henderson...you remember which post offices they were and how to get there once we reach the cities, right?"

"Yeah."

'_Remember_..._there_ is_ nothing_ _to_ _remember_,' Dean speculated at Sam's use of the word. He swallowed his last bite and cleared his throat. "Now I know what is bothering me. Dad, if it is a demon we're hunting, maybe we shouldn't involve Sam...this is something new...we've never faced a demon before and he has the least experience of all of us..."

"Dean, it's okay," Sam said with exasperation. "You don't need to worry about me..._remember_ what I said_?" _

_'Of course, I do...don't you _remember_ I never promised anything?' _Dean thought in response.

Sam shrugged off his brother's distressed expression then faced his father_. "_Besides, I've been thinking...we might have a witch doing this."

"Boys, let's not get ahead of ourselves," replied John as he put in a cassette and reached for the on switch. Rolling Stones music burst out of the speakers with a palpable force.

_'The king has spoken...I guess there's no more to talk about, then,_' thought Sam irritably before closing his eyes.

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Dean leaned over to the back seat and tousled his brother's hair. "Sammy, wake up...we're gonna stop soon."

Sam opened his eyes to see rain hitting the windows heavily. "I wasn't really asleep...Post office?"

"Yeah."

A few minutes later, John parked the car, held the car keys up and turned to Sam. "Go to the trunk and in my black bag, front pocket are a set of keys. Bring them to me."

Sam put a jacket on around his shoulders and took the keys. With a huff, he pushed open his door, which creaked louder in the wet weather, and made his way quickly to the trunk. Once he got it open, Sam found the black bag easily, thankful his dad was an organized person and found the keys where John said they would be. Sam slammed the trunk then ran back and leapt inside, shaking out his wet hair. "Here," he said as he placed the both sets of keys into John's waiting hand.

"Alright," said John. "Wait for me." He departed and sped up the stairs.

After seeing John disappear into the building, Dean turned toward Sam. "Sure is pouring out," he quipped.

"No shit...thanks for making sure I woke up in time to have to get Dad's keys."

Dean grinned. "Hey it was your 'run out into the rain to get Dad's keys' turn."

"It's amazing how good your memory is, Dean."

Dean merely shrugged. They each wordlessly looked out the window, watched the rain falling and random people scurrying about.

As the minutes went by, the rain's intensity started to lessen. Dean squirmed nervously. "It's been fifteen minutes, what's keeping Dad?"

"Looks like Dad got his credit card, Dean...he probably walked to an ATM and withdrew some cash."

No sooner had Sam finished his sentence than they spotted John making his way toward them with a pleasant expression on his face. "Okay, we're in luck," he said once inside the car. "We're not going to need to stop in Boulder after all. Next time I'll show you how do these applications."

"Dad, do you want me to drive a while?" asked Dean.

"You know what? I changed my mind...there's a diner just up ahead. You boys will grab something to eat...get me a cheeseburger. While you're doing that, I'll go fill up the car." John handed Dean and Sam each a twenty dollar bill as they got out. Just before driving off, he said, "I'll be back in thirty."

"Thirty minutes?" Sam said as they began to walk. "To gas up the car? We didn't stop that long ago."

"I'm sure Dad has more on his mind than just getting gas," answered Dean.

"Yeah, he needs time to find a liquor store...at least he's in a better mood," Sam grumbled which earned a jab to his side from Dean.

Sam held up his money. "Having this doesn't feel right"

Dean sighed then swiped it from his hand. "I'll take it then...lunch is on me."

Together, they crossed the street to enter what turned out to be a cafeteria style restaurant and shook of the rain. There were only two other women inside, seated at a corner table, in the middle of some heated discussion.

Dean strode toward the right, picked up a tray and proceeded down the line. Sam followed every one of his moves, down to mimicking Dean's choices, including reaching for a slice of blueberry pie. Next, they found a table easily and started to eat.

Sam swallowed his first bite. "Dad is acting like something might happen to him."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, he just told us he was gonna show us how to fill out an application for the cards. Maybe whatever happened in Amherst got him nervous."

"Sam, Dad's gonna be fine...there's nothing to worry about."

"If he ever goes off again like that, I won't wait around...I'll go out myself and figure out where he went on my own." Sam flashed a glare to Dean who was calmly taking a bite of his sandwich. "You're okay with not knowing what happened?"

"He doesn't want us to know, Sam...end of story. Now, shut up and eat."

"Dean, you were scared...I knew it all along, even though you tried to hide it. We both were. What if Dad was hurt somewhere? I know if I were missing, you'd come looking...we'd do the same for you, too."

Dean took a bite of his pie. "Yeah, 'coz we'd know you probably fell in a ditch or something. Dad and me, we're more careful...we know what we're doing."

"Maybe I'll disappear myself for a few days, see how he likes it," countered Sam.

"Goddammit! You just can't let it go, can you? Me? I would never take off on purpose to prove a point...I know how to move on with my life."

Sam stabbed a couple of fries with his fork. "He could have at least called."

"Just eat, Sam. Dad will be here soon. I'll go and get his food now."

"I_ am_ eating," grumbled Sam to Dean's now empty seat.

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The rain had ended but the clouds lingered as they drove out of Illinois. John stayed behind the wheel and his sons, both with moods reflecting the weather, remained quiet as well. It was three cassette tapes later when they stopped at a rest stop on the Missouri border.

After navigating to a parking area, John turned to his right and handed Dean some more money. He looked at Dean and Sam alternately as he gave his instructions. "I want to make sure the tank is full before going into Kansas and I'm also gonna try to reach Caleb. There's plenty of people around so there shouldn't be any trouble. So you boys do what you need to do...walk around, get enough food and water to take us to Henderson...I want to only stop for gas and mother nature from now on."

"Yes, sir," they replied simultaneously then proceeded to get out of the car.

Dean led the way into the massive structure crowded to capacity and was taken aback once he stepped past the entrance. "Wow! I knew these kinds of places existed but never actually saw one before."

"Yeah. We've never actually been to a mall before either," Sam agreed.

"A new experience along with driving non-stop, enjoy it while you can."

"Enjoy this? I'd rather we did our routine of driving no more than eight hours, spending the night in a hotel. I could really use a shower."

"Yeah, you could."

"I know what I would enjoy. We should go to Las Vegas when we're done, Dean…see what there is out there besides hotels and crappy restaurants."

"I'm with you there, great minds think alike…come on, let's see what there is to eat."

The brothers ventured further inside and maneuvered their way around the great many people. Dean reached a relatively empty spot from where to scan the area better and halted suddenly which caused Sam to almost crash into him. "KFC...McDonald's...pizza. What do you feel like?"

"I think I lost my appetite. What do you feel like?"

"Pizza, I guess."

Sam followed his brother's line of sight. "It has the longest line, Dean."

"So what? You get in line, hold a place while I go to the bathroom then I'll be right back."

"Fine. Just hurry up...I have to go, too."

"Fine...don't pick up any girls while I'm gone."

Dean pushed through the door and his nose involuntarily wrinkled. '_Disgusting...even for us...the sooner I'm in, the sooner I'm out...Sam is going to get nauseous I bet!_' Two men washing their hands at the sink looked up at him as he had appeared. He avoided making eye contact and made his way to a relatively clean looking stall.

Once inside, Dean detected approaching footsteps that stopped in the space next to his. There was movement along the floor and a glance downward showed it was a black sneaker poking under his partition. His suspicion that it was one of the men who had been at the sink when he entered was confirmed; he could tell it belonged to the man who had been wearing the brown leather jacket. _'Oh, that is just wrong,_' Dean thought when the foot began to tap. Dean hurried back out and made his way to a toilet two spaces over.

Dean felt the man staring at his back while he washed his hands. _'Checking what you're missing out on, huh?'_ He looked up at the mirror and caught a glimpse of him peeking out behind the stall door.

Their eyes met, the man's were inquiring, and in answer Dean shook his head. He instantly grabbed a paper towel to quickly dry his hands and nearly collided with another man coming in while he was going out. Several paces later, Dean turned to catch sight of that man standing by the mens' room door.

He was reeling; having been propositioned for gay sex only once before, and that was by someone he knew, this unwelcome encounter took Dean off guard. '_Breathe…' _Sam's voice echoed in his mind and so he slowed his stride to do just that—he took a couple of steadying breaths in and out. After, he felt slightly calmer—but he really wanted to be back with his brother. No matter how short a time he was apart from Sam, returning to his presence was like arriving back home after being gone for years.

Dean disregarded the sea of humanity around him and focused on where the pizza place was. Everyone else registered as just a blur when he scanned down the line until he caught sight of him. Sam was staring back and even from this distance, Dean could see his concerned look. '_I don't care,_' he thought. He needed to tell Sam the truth about this.

Sam had hardly moved up much and that brought Dean back to the reality that he wasn't really gone that long—it actually took him longer to walk the distance between the line and the restroom.

Sam's face was puckered with worry. "Dean, what is it?"

"Nothing gets by you, huh? There's a guy in the bathroom that is cruising for sex," Dean said in a low voice.

"Is he still there?" Sam whispered.

Dean craned his neck around to scan through the crowds. "I saw him leave but then he just was standing by the door. I don't see him now...doesn't mean anything."

"What am I supposed to do? That's the nearest one."

"I'll tell you what you _won't_ do..."

"Sorry, Dean...I have to go now. Just wait here…I'll be back soon," Sam interrupted before he set off in the direction of the restroom.

Dean threw up his arms in exasperation. "Dammit, Sam," he snapped, ignoring the looks of the people around him in line.

From his position in the line, he kept Sam in sight as he wove his way toward the rest room. When he was halfway there, that same man exited the bathroom again and stood by unobtrusively as the people went about their business around him. He took notice of Sam passing by and blatantly appraised him up and down. _'He's a criminal pedophile, too,_' thought Dean, his blood boiling. But that man remained where he was, looked left to right, and reached inside his jacket to check something.

_'He won't strike with other people inside,_' Dean told himself with as much conviction he could muster and held his ground. Apparently this person had the same idea for he didn't re-enter the restroom.

Dean was starting to relax. However, the man was stopping anyone else from entering; based on his gestures, it seemed he was telling them something was wrong with the facilities. Each time, no one questioned it and they walked away.

Man after man pushed through the door and Dean hoped in vain each time one of them would be Sam. _'Come on! Finish already. You don't have to spend friggin' ten minutes washing your hands!_' Another person left - apparently it was the last one because the man in the leather jacket took one last look around then slipped back inside the mens' room. "Aw shit!" Dean raged as he took a step forward.

'_Sam said to stop worrying...he can take care of himself..._' his inner voice commanded '..._stay where you are._'

Dean paused for a split second.

_'Nope, can't do it...don't be too pissed at me, Sammy...I tried._' Dean couldn't ignore the image in his mind of Sam being threatened and molested; it spurred him to act. Dean kicked himself for having waited so long and started rushing over there, not caring if he bumped into people on the way. All he was afraid of was that he wouldn't make in time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: Well, it happened again. As I explained in my profile, once more, I have made some changes. For those wonderful readers following this story, I have revised some of Chapter 8. **

Sam was leaning over a sink, washing his hands when the bathroom door re-opened but this time it was pushed, not pulled. Though Sam didn't acknowledge the man who entered, peripheral vision let him know this person was suspicious for the fact that he was wearing a leather jacket in early July.

Instead of heading to a stall or urinal, this person lurked by the door. Being watched rinsing the soap off his hands made Sam's skin crawl._'What the hell's this asshole doing? He's purposely blocking my way out__,_' he reflected with dismay.

"Hey kid, you wanna make a quick twenty?"

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. _'Oh, shit._ _This must be the guy Dean was talking about. He didn't say anything about money...not that I gave him a chance to.'_

As nonchalantly as possible, he simply shut off the faucet and took the two steps needed to grab a paper towel from the dispenser located close to where his opponent was leaning. The man's face expressed impatience, eyes shifting back and forth. "Hey, I asked you a question," he growled.

"Fuck off," replied Sam before turning his back to the man and throwing the used paper towel into the trash with one fluid move.

"Wrong answer."

Sam spun back around to find the man had moved to place his back up against the door. There was now no question that in order to leave, Sam would need to physically confront this person. Though a few inches shorter, Sam judged there was a good thirty pounds on him and decided he would have to rely on his speed.

Suddenly a new obstacle presented itself as the man reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. '_So that's why he's wearing a jacket,_' thought Sam incidentally. He shook his head with frustration. _'Stop! That's not important now! Focus!'_

"You're comin' with me, quietly...understand?...and no one has to get hurt."

In his mind, Sam heard Dean's voice say_, 'alright, that's enough._' In a blur Sam rushed forward and landed one targeted strike to the man's temple. Before he knew what hit him, the man's eyes rolled up and he crumpled to the tiles, just left of the door.

Sam stared down at his form in disbelief. The man didn't so much as twitch. _'Holy shit! I did it! I didn't freeze...at all! T__he extra training _does_ help._' He then turned to reach for the door when suddenly it burst open and Sam was confronted by a wild-eyed Dean.

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Dean's face lit up with instant relief once he saw Sam standing before him. There was no mark on him but to Dean, that didn't mean anything. With a cursory glance, he noticed the man who went after his brother was sprawled out on the floor. Dean's eyes narrowed showing the rage he felt. "Did he touch you?"

"No," Sam said with a grin. "Don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Dean shouted. He took a step toward Sam and shook his shoulders in frustration. "That's what you keep saying!" He then gestured to the knife he saw on the ground.

Now it was Sam's turn to lose his temper. "I'm not fucking five anymore you know!"

His brother looked so startled that Sam couldn't help but to grin once again. "Ha!...Dean, I obviously can take care of myself."

"Well, I must say," Dean conceded, "I'm impressed. Didjya get him in one hit?"

Sam didn't want to take all the credit. "Yeah...just like you and dad showed me. Let's get out of here."

"Help me get him in the trash, first?"

"Someone might come in...we should just go."

Dean kicked the man hard in the stomach and the man groaned. "Oh, sorry," he said, voice dripping with insincerity.

Just as Dean turned to exit, another man passed through the door and stopped short at the sight before him. "What the..."

Sam froze. "Uh..."

"This man," Dean said pointing with his foot, "attacked my brother...call the police and have him arrested." Without another word, Dean grabbed Sam by the arm then pulled him out of the restroom and away from the newcomer's scrutiny.

The eyewitness reached for his cell phone then squatted down to investigate as he began punching some numbers. Before he could finish, the man lying on the ground suddenly opened his eyes, grabbed his knife, and raised himself up to stab the other in the heart. "Just a little pent up energy finding it's way out for a job well done."

The innocent bystander dropped his phone as he collapsed. He died instantly with nothing more than a look of disbelief on his face.

The man in the leather jacket stood up and sneered. "Can't be letting you ID the Winchester boys, either." Next, he dragged the body off to a far corner so no one would see it right away. Satisfied, he said, "that should give them enough time."

He then walked over to a mirror and faced his reflection. "Thanks for the loaner, you fucking pervert. Now, you'll have more than molestation on your record. Too bad I didn't let you see any of what just happened...it was beautiful, really. As for me, I now have some business to take care of in a place called Henderson."

Suddenly, the man in the leather jacket tilted his head back and screamed as a stream of black smoke jettisoned up from his mouth before he collapsed once again to the floor.

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Worried they would attract more unwanted attention, Sam pulled his arm against his brother's grip as soon as they exited the bathroom. "Let go, Dean!"

Dean abruptly released Sam's arm and growled.

"You're just pissed because you didn't get to beat him senseless," Sam said as they continued making their way to the building's exit, dodging numerous people coming at them from all different directions.

Dean pushed through the door to the outside with more force than was necessary. "You're goddamn right I'm pissed! Sam if one of us has to beat someone up, it should be me."

"What! Why? Just 'coz you're my _big _brother?...He was after me, not you!"

"Exactly and that's the thing that gets me the most! Do you know what could have happened?"

"Dean...come on man. I mean, you've got enough to worry about, right? I can take care of myself...now you've seen I am quite capable. And, yes, I know what could have happened... I've faced perverts like this before when I was 9." Sam winced as that last bit came out unintended.

Dean stopped cold in his tracks. "What did you say?"

Sam halted as well and glanced around to see if any attention was being directed their way and was gratified to see everyone else going about their business. He consequently spotted the Impala. "Dean, Dad's over there waiting. We've got to keep moving...we can't stay here."

Sam resumed walking and Dean kept pace next to him. "Oh, no you don't...tell me what happened."

Sam gazed off into the distance as the memory rushed to the surface.

_It was his turn to stay behind and clean up the field. Once done, he was taking a shower and didn't think anyone was still there so he let out a surprised gasp when a hand worked around the curtain before him and pushed it aside. _

_It was his coach standing there, completely undressed. He took an involuntary step back then bumped into the wall; there was no where else to go. Without saying anything, the coach leaned over and grabbed one of his forearms. _

_His mouth ran dry as the coach guided his hand toward the man's genitals. To avoid contact, he clenched his hand into a fist and ineffectively started to pull back. "Just relax," the coach whispered, attempting to open up his hand. _

_Right then, a door just outside the shower area banged open and he could hear equipment being pushed along the locker room floor - it must be the janitor. The coach let go of his arm as his expression turned into one of fear. Suddenly the coach ran out of there and he remained under the running water, stunned for a moment. Then tears started to roll down his face as he sobbed with relief, trying to telepathically communicate 'thank you...thank you' repeatedly to the janitor._

"It happened when I played soccer, at one of my schools..."

Dean spun Sam around to face him, effectively cutting him off. "...and you didn't tell me?"

"You're kidding right?"

Dean glared in response.

Sam sighed. "Since we were kids, we knew we had to stay off the grid."

Dean's heated expression softened slightly. "Yeah...and?"

"I knew how you'd react...it would cause unwanted attention. I waited until I knew we were leaving the area before telling a teacher."

"Did anything ever happen again to you with this asshole...or any other time with another asshole?"

Sam looked down to his feet. "No."

Dean gave him a skeptical eye. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Sam, look at me."

Sam complied with his brother's request and pulled off a straight face. "Nothing like that ever happened again...really, I swear."

Dean swallowed. "Did Dad know?"

"No," Sam conceded then rushed to explain when he saw Dean clench his jaw. "He can't be with us all the time, Dean...he said so himself...you know that. Plus, I knew how he'd react as well." Sam lifted an arm, placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and gently squeezed. "You _can't_ tell him...it's just gonna make him mad and for what? Nothing really happened...it was interrupted before it went too far. Plus it was _six years ago_. Please...promise me."

Dean was silent, thinking about what Sam had just said. He turned toward where his father was by the car; the hood was up and he was bent over the engine. A few seconds later, he looked directly at Sam.

Sam dropped his arm down and stared back with pleading eyes that he knew Dean could never say 'no' to. "Fine. But he _will_ hear about this."

"Fine...bitch."

"You're the bitch...bitch," Dean mumbled.

"Oh yeah?" Sam laughed and gave Dean's shoulder a shove to which Dean responded by punching him lightly in the arm. Then they resumed walking at a hurried pace.

John dropped the hood when his son's approached. "Where's the food?"

Dean frowned. "There was an incident...we need to go in case the cops come."

With out another word, the three men jumped into their car and John directed it back onto the highway. A faint siren could be heard and John looked in the rear view mirror while Dean and Sam peered out the back window. From a distance, they all saw the flashing lights of a police car heading toward the reststop entrance.

"This 'incident' wouldn't by any chance have involved you, would it?" John asked once they were a few minutes back on the highway.

"You should have seen it...Sam knocked the asshole out in one strike."

John scrutinuzed Sam in the rearview mirror and was satisfied he was alright. "Mmmhmm. Tell me what happened."

"Basically, a sex predator tried to get Sam."

_'A pervert threatened my son!_' John's shoulders tensed and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Where were you when all this was going on?"

From the back seat, Sam threw his arms up. "Dad, don't put this on Dean! He found out what was happening and came right away."

"Watch your tone," John snapped then caught Dean's expression of regret and sighed. "You're right. It's just...we don't have enough to deal with? We gotta deal with these low-lifes, too? It just pisses me off and that's putting it very mildly."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Some things are out of our control. I'm just glad nothing really bad happened to Sam."

"We all are."

Sam cleared his throat, slightly emotional over his fathers words. "Someone saw us with him when he was unconscious and called the cops...we had to leave. They'll take care of it."

John wanted to do nothing short of murdering that man but couldn't based on principle. "If it weren't for the law showing up, I'd turn right around. But unfortunately, I learned my lesson." John tilted his head, recalling the time. "Ironically, it was thanks to a pedophile. It involved you, Dean...you were ten at the time. Do you remember? We were staying in Cincinnati."

"I don't remember anything," Dean said. "Nothing like that ever happened to me. I mean, I _have_ been approached, but only when I was older and for consensual sex."

"Dad, I remember you beat the shit out of some guy...is that what you mean?"

Dean narrowed his eyes trying to search for the memory. "Where was I?"

"I'll tell you," said John. "Well, nothing really _happened_ to you, thank God...plus you were sick at the time, probably too out of it to know what was going on. I had gone to get you from school and when we came back to our place, this guy passed by, obviously drunk. He came up to us...asked me if I was from the area and asked 'where did you find him?' and if could he have you when I was done."

"He didn't think I was your son?" Dean asked.

"Well, you do resemble your mother more. But I didn't care...I didn't care if he was drunk or dying."

Sam shuddered. "All I knew is that he said something that made you furious...but you never told me what."

"I held back until I first saw Dean inside and told you both to stay put...which you did, thankfully."

"Wow. I don't remember any of that," Dean said, shaking his head.

John turned his head toward Dean and gave a rare smile. "Oh, and there was hell to pay after that! Some neighbor witnessed the way I told him what I thought about his preference for children and called the cops. Fortunately, when they came, the asshole didn't press charges...I guess he must've had something to hide himself. Anyway, the next day, social services got involved because the police noticed I had a six year old son who wasn't in school. It was then I enrolled you, Sam, and played by the rules."

Dean smirked at that and spoke with sarcasm. "And you have been ever since...you are a model citizen."

All three were silent before John spoke once again. "So you say someone saw you? We'll make a stop for food soon, get the scanner and listen in. We'll also keep our ears open to the news."


	10. Chapter 10

The Impala was cruising along route 70. John was behind the wheel guiding it with his capable skill while Dean was shotgun, facing inward with his arm stretched out across the seat back and left leg up, bent at the knee.

Sam scrutinized them from a sideways glance_.'They don't fool me for a second...I know they're still fuckin' pissed.' _Despite being one of the few people on earth who could handle his father's and brother's tempers, he was thankful their anger wasn't entirely directed toward him.

Sam sat once again in the back and for the first time since he began complaining about it at the age of ten he now felt strangely comforted by it; he felt safe, partly aware that there was no other place he'd rather be at the present and was moved by how his Dad and brother on occasion covertly checked on him. Not wanting to be the one to break the spell, wanting this feeling to last as long as possible, he thought, _'I'll wait for them to speak first.'_

Sam sighed sadly when he caught John looking at him a new way in the rearview mirror; he was right to think the moment would soon be over.

"So, Sam...you really took this asshole out with one hit?" John asked.

"Yes, sir."

Dean shifted to face his little brother in the back. "Yeah, about that...there's one thing I don't get...this was far from your first fight and you're still undefeated so what's with the, 'now you see I can take care of myself?'"

Sam's eyes widened, jaw dropped slightly. "Really, Dean?"

Dean raised his shoulders to convey 'what?'

"Come on...you practically broke down the bathroom door!"

Dean started to laugh it off but in noticing Sam's earnest expression, his eyes shifted downward and eyelids fluttered as he refreshed his memory.

"But it's more than that. I think I also said it...uh maybe...because, when I think about it, all those times before were kids my own age. Plus they were bothering other people." Sam then looked out the right window for he was in the habit of being unable to show his face when he lied. "Before this, I never actually confronted an adult, after _me_ and..." Sam sensed his brother was studying him, so he forced himself to look at Dean directly. When he saw his eyes expressing unconcealed concern Sam truthfully added "...he did kinda take me by surprise. I still can't believe I didn't freeze."

_'Why would you freeze?_' Dean wondered. "I _did_ tell you he was around."

"Yeah, but I was almost done in the bathroom, and he hadn't shown up, so I didn't think he would. Plus he pulled a knife which was unexpected."

John had been trembling with rage throughout Sam's voiced recollections and his hands tightened their grip around the steering wheel. "He had a knife?" he ground out.

"Yeah Dad. It didn't touch me...can we talk about something else?"

"Wait a minute...Dean _warned_ you about him and you went anyway?" At that, John instantly detected his oldest son's posture tense up and recalled their discussion about Dean's fear of pushing Sam away. He nodded to signal, _'okay, I'll stop now_.'

Dean got the message and exhaled in relief. "So, Dad, did you get through to Caleb?"

"Yeah, I told him where we were and when we expect to get there...he'll make sure he's home."

"That's it?" Sam spat.

"Look, nobody has any answers. Apparently the men had been autopsied...the blood tests and the exam were all negative...toxicology reports are pending."

"Since the cause is still unknown, and two people died the same, it's looking more likely something supernatural is behind this," Dean said.

"There's nothing to check into on the medical end, since the evidence had been collected...one of the vics has since been buried yesterday and the second is awaiting his funeral," John replied.

"So we're gonna be reporters?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked at Sam. "Right...relatives will have no problem believing a high school kid is in the investagative reporting business."

"I'd tell them I'm a college intern."

"That's enough," John cut in. "There's gonna be much for all of us to do."

"Yeah, like breaking in to wherever the vics worked," Dean said, brightening.

"I want to do that, too. I want to know what Caleb knows," Sam said.

"We'll see," John declared.

_'So, Sam...you really knocked him out in one hit?' _John couldn't help but be amazed and glanced into the rearview mirror. His fifteen year old son was just looking out his own window with eyes squinted against the wind rushing in from the outside and hair flying in a hundred different directions. _'I'm proud of you, son._'

The Winchesters were silent for the remainder of the forty-five minutes drive into Kansas before exiting off the highway.

The Impala turned a few heads which John ignored as he navigated their car through the streets of Topeka and stopped outside a Denny's restaurant.

In the parking lot, John remained still for a moment, studying the area, oblivious to the occasional stare of some people moving about the immediate vicinity. The car door creaked when opened and closed around his departure. He then walked to the trunk, opened it, pulled out his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. John looked right and left once again before closing the trunk then appeared at Dean's window. He leaned forward and stated, "you boys just sit tight, I'll be back shortly."

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Once John disappeared inside, Sam reached over to roll down the other backseat window. When he straightened back up, he saw Dean was staring at him.

"Hey, Sam, would you ever want to go back to our old house?"

"I knew you'd ask that and no, I wouldn't...what about you?"

"Nope."

"I can't think of there ever being a reason to go back after all this time."

"Yeah, Dad doesn't want to run into anyone he knows from before. He told me he did everything he could to figure out what killed Mom and came up empty."

"Dean, do you really think we'll ever find out what did it?"

"Of course."

"You sound amazingly sure."

"I have to be, it's what helps me focus."

"Huh." Suddenly Sam's face wrinkled in distaste. He picked up his shirt to mop his face. "Ugh! It's too hot in here!" He scanned around for a map, picked one up and started fanning himself with it. "Hope Dad doesn't take too long."

"He won't. You know he didn't want to stop in Kansas at all."

Sam stopped fanning himself and glared out the window. "Something else to blame me for."

Dean fixed a piercing scowl at his brother. "Shut up, Sam. He doesn't blame you! Stop looking for a fucking fight."

Sam didn't respond. He knew Dean was right.

Sam seemed a little pale and Dean's expression softened. "Long day, huh?"

Sam looked at Dean with trepidation, having an idea where this conversation was going. "No shit."

"How much sleep do you figure you've gotten?"

Sam was surprised at the unexpected question. "Since we left Amherst?"

Dean nodded.

"Well, I got maybe 5-6 hours but that's been broken up."

"I think dad got about the same, consecutive and I have about 9 hours all together but also broken up."

"Come on, Dean...you're starting to scare me. Just say what's really on your mind."

Dean heaved a sigh. "Okay...well, it's like this...I know you asked me not to tell Dad about what happened to you but..."

"...you can't keep it a secret. Why not? 'Cause you're incapable? That's bullshit."

"Cut me some slack, Sam. I just _can't _keep this from Dad."

"There is so much that happens to you that _you_ don't talk about."

"I know, I..." Dean shook his head. "Sam, don't change the subject. It's not like I want to tell him, it's like I have to tell him."

"Why?"

"Because this has to do with you, Sammy. Look, I get it...I understand when you said why you didn't tell me...and it sucks that we have to keep all problems off the radar..." Somehow his anger at all the pedophiles in the worlds was gone but it was impossible for him to blame his dad or the life they led. What remained was the realization that Sam didn't seem to need his big brother now or, even worse - then; it stung more than anything else_. 'I thought he always came to me about everything...Dammit, I feel like I let him down.'_

"It's okay Dean," Sam said after a minute of silence.

"I just feel like I let you down."

Sam hated to see his brother so despondent. It was rare but it did happen. "Dean, I also didn't say anything then because I just didn't_ want_ to talk about it...I wanted to just forget about it." He saw his brother's worried look shift to horror-stricken.

Dean swallowed and could only whisper, "is that why you said 'I can't believe I didn't freeze'? Because you froze when you were nine?"

Sam leaned back on the seat and crossed his arms with a huff of anger_. 'Yeah, that and the run-in I had with mother Kitsune_,' Sam thought.

"Sam?"

"Dean, it was your voice in my head that pushed me to act just now."

"What?"

"Just now...in the restroom. When that asshole pulled the knife, I heard you say, 'enough of this' or something and that's when I hit him. So you see, even though you weren't there, you were there. You did help me."

"My voice? Cool," Dean smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

Dean still wasn't appeased, so he was out of options. Sam sighed and said, "fine, whatever...tell Dad. Just please don't say anything until I am somewhere else..." Sam's eyes sparkled with mischief "...and you have to promise to stop talking incessently about your sex life."

"I don't talk incessently about sex!"

Dean was in better spirits for being given permission to tell their father about Sam's encounter with the pedophile coach; consequently Sam felt better as well and laughed. "You don't talk about anything bad that happens to you, but the one thing you should keep to yourself you share with the world! At least promise you'll try."

"Fine, bitch."

"Jerk."

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Due to the time of day, the restaurant was empty. Once inside, John hurried to the restroom at the rear of the building and five minutes later, teeth brushed, face washed, among other things one normally does in the bathroom, he emerged.

A quick scan of the place, showed a female employee sitting at the reception counter. Their eyes met and he saw her surreptitiously reach up to smooth her hair. _'Good,_' he thought and headed straight to her.

"Hello," he said with his most charming smile.

"Hi," she squeaked then cleared her throat. "How can I help you?"

"I want to place an order to go."

She picked up her pad, returned his smile and waited for him to start.

"I'll take four cheeseburgers with everything, one chicken caeser salad with greek dressing, three large orders of fries and three cokes."

The waitress nodded when she finished writing then placed the order sheet on the ledge leading into the kitchen. "Okay, it should be ready in ten minutes," she said as she returned to him.

John opened his mouth to speak but the waitress was faster. "I saw you get out of that black car...it's so cool. What kind is it?"

"A Chevy Impala."

"Have you had it long?"

"Over twenty-years now...she's my one and only."

She glanced down to his left hand. "Does your wife love it too?"

John furrowed his eyebrows. "My..."

She jutted her chin downward. "I noticed you're wearing a ring."

He raised his left hand up and looked at it. "Oh, yeah...ah, she passed away."

"Oh...I am so sorry. So...you from around here?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I'm just visiting some friends. Actually, one of them is a reporter who I was supposed to meet here but he just left me a message..he couldn't make it."

"Oh. TV or newspaper?"

"Newspaper...actually, I'm not sure I'm supposed to be talking about it but apparently he has a sudden assignment in Kansas City...there was some incident where a guy attacked someone at a rest stop."

"Well, I just heard something about it a little while ago...I heard someone was found murdered in a men's bathroom."

"Murdered? Did you hear anything else?"

"Yeah, they got a suspect already. I just know people are saying someone found two men lying in the rest room, one was found dead. I guess they're gonna check the security footage."

"Hmm. Thanks..."

"My name is Patty." She reached out her right hand and he shook it.

"Hi, I'm Steve. Hey, I just need to make a quick phone call."

"Maybe we can get together sometime while you're here. I'll give you my number with your receipt...in case you want to."

"Sounds great."

"Okay! Well, I should get back to work. I'll let you know when your order is ready."

John nodded then made his way to a far table, pulled out his phone and journal. He opened it, found the number he wanted and started dialing.

_'Things can never stay simple, can they?_' he thought to himself while waiting for someone to pick up.

"_Hello?"_

"Deacon?"

"_Winchester_, _you son of a bitch! How the hell are you?"_

"I'm still alive. What's new with you?"

"_Nothing. Enough bullshit small talk...what did you call for_?"

John opened his mouth to answer when he noticed Patty quietly approaching. Unwilling to interrupt him, she placed John's order on the table and noticed she had his attention for a spit second. With a smile, she quickly brought one of her hands up to her ear, thumb and pinky extended and mouthed the words, "call me." He returned the smile and nodded just before she turned and walked away. John tore off the receipt and crumpled it up.

_"You still there?"_

John looked back down. "Yeah, sorry. Just had to wait for someone to pass by. So there was this incident in St. Louis...at a highway rest stop...where I hear there's been a murder. I just am interested to know what the authorities find on the security tape. So..."

_"...say no more. I'll look in to it for you."_

"Thanks, Deacon. I owe you one."

"_Just visit me next time you're around and I'll forget the whole thing_."

"You got it."

"_Call ya later."_

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Dean was sitting behind the wheel when John return, he settled in the passenger seat, John handed each son a bag containing a styrofoam box and a drink.

"A waitress told me what she heard happened back at that rest stop. Didn't know the whole story but she heard someone was murdered..."

Sam's head shot up. "...murdered?"

Dean's eyes were wide. "Holy..."

"Well, the pervert did have a knife, and he did say if I went with him, no one would get hurt," Sam rationalized.

John said, "we don't know who did what yet. The perp is in custody, apparently. The only loose end is the security camera which I have my friend Deacon looking into right now. Just need to wait for Deacon's call."

"I say, let's just move on." Dean turned on the ignition and looked behind him as he backed out. "Sam, you should sleep when you're done eating...you look like death warmed over."

He ignored the glimpse he caught of Sam rolling his eyes which told him,_ 'don't be so bossy.'_

Sam opened the box on his lap. "Dad, you got me a salad? You know I don't get salads anymore!"

"Sam, I got it for you because of what happened to you today, I thought I'd get you your favorite."

"I haven't asked for a salad for a long time now."

Dean jumped in. "It hasn't been that long...you're such a drama geek. Sam, I'll give you one of my cheeseburgers and we can split the salad."

"It's alright, Dean. You're driving."

John held his serving up and said, "Just give me your salad and you can eat what I got."

Sam traded John's food with his. "Thanks, Dad," he grumbled.


	11. Chapter 11

The Impala sped onward as Dean guided it along a highway through Kansas. Aside from the sounds made while they ate their food and slurped soda through straws, the trio were silent. Surrounding them was little traffic and the clearing skies made for ideal road conditions; it was why Dean permitted the car to swerve slightly as he released one hand from the steering wheel to reach down.

John had just swallowed his last french fry then turned in time to see Dean sink his teeth into what remained of a cheeseburger. He sighed and said, "don't you ever get sick of those things?"

"Sorry, Dad...I'm down to my last bite," Dean declared. "If I had known you really wanted this, I would have given you some." He caught a glimpse of John's morose expression and laughed it off. "You are always telling us, 'you don't have to like it, just eat it'."

John looked down and his grimace deepened; he was slightly more than halfway through the salad._ 'This is what I get for enabling Sam's 'imitating big brother' phase,' _John thought as he forced another bite. _'Well, whatever it takes to help him...can't think of a better role model.'_

Dean popped the last morsel of food into his mouth, sipped some of his drink and let out a faint, gratified belch. From the back seat came an exasperated sigh. Dean simply responded by scanning his surroundings and lamented, "the only thing missing is that I am not driving in Oklahoma...I wish we could have gone through there instead."

Sam grabbed the back of John's seat and pulled himself forward. "Dean, I read that Oklahoma has a population of about 3 million but..."

"And why do you wish we drove through Oklahoma?" John interjected.

"Does the fact that it's one of the larger states with a relatively smaller population have something to do with it?" Sam asked, practically clamoring in John's ear. "Or..."

Dean, keeping his eyes on the road, shrugged lightly. "Well...I don't know...it's just one of my favorite states."

"...I know," Sam persisted. "You're thinking of the musical '_Oklahoma__!'_...you loved that movie...I even hear you singing the songs in the shower."

Dean cringed slightly and glanced into the rearview mirror. "Shut up, Sam. It was _one_ time and I was only humming it."

"Jeez, you're such a jerk! It's okay to like musicals. I liked it too...it was pretty good. Maybe you think of yourself as a pioneer and wished you could have lived like that or maybe you were a rancher in a past life."

"Or _maybe_ you've had too much soda."

John cleared his throat, turned to face out the passenger window and spoke in a voice thick with despair. "Mary loved that movie...she watched it whenever it was on. Once I took her to see _'Oklahoma!_' on stage...she loved live performances, too. In fact, it was just after the show when I put her engagement ring on her finger and officially asked her to marry me."

"I never knew that," Sam said quietly. He really wished he had the privilege to know his mother; though it plagued him that he was unable to miss her, his sorrow was deepened by the fact that he was unable to talk much about her. Sam often resented the times when his dad and Dean spoke of a memory but became agitated whenever Sam joined in.

Sam determined Dad and Dean weren't going to say anything at this time. He squeezed his eyes shut to once again attempt to visualize his mother but, as before, she didn't appear; even with the premise of her doing something so simple as sitting before the television watching '_Oklahoma__!_'. All he did imagine was Dean sitting on a couch, curled up at her side. A twinge of jealousy triggered a frown to form on his face.

After a couple of minutes of shared low-spirited silence, Dean announced, "I don't believe in past lives."

"No, but a lot of people do," Sam grumbled. "I remember one person I met in Amherst...he's from Cambodia...he said that when he was young, his aunt was sure he was a reincarnation of his grandfather and claimed he knew things and said things only the grandfather would know."

"Huh...well, I have yet to find any proof. My theory is 'dust in the wind...all we are is dust in the wind'."

Sam's jaw dropped and he leaned forward once again. "Your meaning of existence is based on the words to a Kansas song?"

"Yeah...great, now I can't get that song out of my head. You know...I could stand to listen to some Kansas music." Dean started humming the tune's harmony and the car again deviated slightly as he reached for his box of cassettes.

Somewhat jostled by the vehicle's recoil, John blinked away his unshed tears and remembered there was still a salad perched on his lap. He decided then that he was done with it and placed the remainder into the plastic bag, dropped it down near his feet. He then grabbed the box before Dean had and dictated, "just drive...I'll find it."

_'Again with the music._' Sam shook his head and sighed. "Hey Dean, if you could go back in time, what period would you choose?"

When their hazel green eyes made contact in the rearview mirror, Sam was bolstered by how his brother's lit up with his response. "The late eighteen hundreds, definitely...the old west."

"Sort of like the time period in _'Oklahoma_!'."

Dean cringed again with the reference. "Whatever."

With tape in hand, John bent forward, pushed it into the player, switched on the power then leaned his head back while closing his eyes. "Dean, you're good, right?" he asked in a voice that quavered a bit.

Though Dean kept his eyes facing front, he could tell his dad was still dwelling on happier times with Mom and did not want to take that away. "Yes, sir."

Sam observed his father was once again lost in his own world and glanced back over to Dean to see he was stoically listening to the music. "Well, I'm gonna rest too," he murmured.

He closed the Styrofoam box, tossed it onto the floor and thought, _'Ugh...we really need to clean this car_.' Suddenly he found himself helpless to stop his eyes from stinging with the formation of tears. Any other time, it would have been a trifling observation - the car was often cluttered. But the renewed disappointment of not knowing his mom, discovering Dean's depressing beliefs and the simple physical misery of riding in a car for over a day in the hot summer with no more than two straight hours of sleep had allowed the random thought to trigger a heavy heart. Feelings of utter hopelessness - they came crashing down around him - left Sam suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. Upon curling up on the seat, he instantly passed out.

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The vast plains stretched out all around them - Dean could see for miles in every direction and could not help but be reminded of his insignificance. Just ahead, the clouds began to disperse; a single glimmer from the sun filtered through giving away a position that suggested there would be only a few more daytime hours.

Rays of light touched down upon the earth as the clouds continued to travel further away from each other. _'They look like escalators from heaven_,' Dean mused. _'Mom? Are _you _in heaven? _Is_ there a God?_'

In the side view mirror, he caught a glimpse of all that was left of the rain storm they had driven through hours ago and saw a rainbow off in the distance. _'Sam would want to see this_.'

"Hey Sammy...," Dean started while turning to look over his shoulder. He quickly observed his little brother on his side, eyes closed, breathing deeply then faced back around to the front, disappointed. He then peaked once again into the side view mirror; the rainbow was still there, even more expansive. Beauty was evident everywhere and the nineteen year old sighed sadly. _'I think this is as good as it gets...God, if you do exist, please don't take the rest of my family...I don't want to be alone._'

_'Carry on Wayward Son'_ began to play and Dean started to softly sing to himself.

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After over four hours, the sun had disappeared completely below the horizon and headlights had since been turned on to see the road. Soft snores were still coming from the passenger side and back. Dean took a tentative look over his right shoulder and verified Sam was truly in the middle of a deep sleep.

_'Sam..._' Dean scowled to himself - suddenly the knowledge about the molestation attempt of his little brother had returned to the forefront of his mind. '_Now would be a good time to tell Dad,' _he decided and switched off the music.

On cue, John blinked open his eyes and immediately noted that the sky was dark all around; "What time is it? Where the hell are we now?" he mumbled.

"It's almost eleven…we just passed through Denver," Dean answered.

John grunted as he leaned forward. Dean looked over at his dad, watched him retrieve his journal and a small flashlight from the glove compartment then begin leafing through it. "What are you looking for?"

Remaining focused on the scribbled writing, John said, "I was thinking about Lincoln again...I am going over names of other hunters to see if I missed something, or if their names trigger a memory that one of them moved near Lincoln. Everyone I've called so far has no knowledge of that case."

Dean nodded and periodically turned his gaze rightward while he replied, keeping his voice low. "Not one of our better moments...and Sam started acting differently since then. There is something he won't talk about with me...since we left there something has been bugging him, I know it."

John cast a sidelong glance at his oldest son, his eyes were piercing.

Too bad I can't beat it out of him," Dean quipped with a hint of a smile. He returned the look only to see his dad's jaw clench, that his attempt at humor was lost on him. Dean cleared his throat with contrition and said, "that is when the nightmares started too...I don't know that they have to do with his hunting...I am worried about him..."

John frowned then looked to the back seat. Sam was curled up in a peaceful slumber, appearing to John as he did when he was five years old. "Well, he's not having a nightmare now."

"Uh, Dad?"

John turned back. "Yeah?" he whispered. "What is it?"

"Speaking of Sam... uh…there's something you should know. I just found out that when Sam was nine..."

John's phone suddenly rang which caused them to jump slightly. '_Damn it_,' Dean thought and subtly tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Sam shot upright with the shrill sound. Eyes half-opened, he whipped his head around a few times evidently unable to process what woke him up.

The phone was on the seat, resting next to his John's leg. He quickly picked it up as it rang again, louder this time. Still not yet quite awake, Sam slurred, "Dad, tha's y'r phone..."

Squinting to see the keypad, John pressed the answer button then activated the speaker.

"Hey, Deacon."

"_Hey_ _John...I have some news."_

The connection was terrible and apparently true for Deacon on his end as well, for he clearly made his voice loud enough to be heard over the crackles; the Winchesters all leaned in closer from their positions in order to best make out the officer's words.

"What'd you find out?"

"_The security feed shows only static for the period in question. They have nothing from well before to well after. My money is on that it had been tampered with."_

John exhaled loudly. "Okay, thanks for all your help."

_"Right...not a problem."_

John hung up and whispered, "thank God." He placed his phone onto the dash and sat still, thinking for a moment. "I was right to decide we didn't need to bother with the scanner last time we stopped. It seems luck was on our side this time but let this be a lesson...you remember what I said about security cameras, right?"

"Yes sir," said Dean. "Think of them as everywhere."

"Dad, what are we supposed to do? Not go shopping, not get gas for the car?"

"Just be sure to be mindful of it, okay? There are more cameras around now than ever before," John snapped. "Focus on what I'm telling you and always do your best to keep your face down."

"Yes sir," Sam replied.

"Gas is running low...we need to stop soon," said Dean in an attempt to change the subject.

"Pull off at the next exit then," John ordered and simply added, "I could use some real food, too."

"You know," Sam said. "It used to be that the image of the person came out blurry and was hardly useful; then in the eighties, camcorder technology provided more accurate images. I read somewhere that it definitely controls crime. In 1979 robberies somewhere in New York were fifteen thousand but in 1990 it went down to eight thousand."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Hilltop."

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Upon arriving at another gas station about twenty minutes later, they all pulled themselves out of the car and stretched. Beneath the rickety rusted over-structure there were two other cars, a silver Nissan Sentra and tan Ford Taurus. John observed three other people - two were standing by, fueling their vehicles, and the third individual was sitting in the passenger seat of the Sentra. The night's darkness prevented him from seeing much past the artificially lit area.

John detected another movement out of the corner of his right eye; it was Sam half inside their car rummaging through his duffel bag briefly before he straightened up with his toothbrush and paste in hand. "Dad, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, brush my teeth."

John reached for his wallet and slipped out a twenty dollar bill. "Get us some food after."

Sam turned to Dean who had since reached the back of the car to open the fuel tank. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Dean answered curtly, still peeved at the previous interruption, as he turned toward the pump and grabbed the nozzle.

Sam shrugged and loped off toward the rest room area.

John walked over to the trunk and leaned against it, keeping Sam in sight until he disappeared inside.

Dean inserted the nozzle into the fuel tank then emulated his dad in the act of surveillance on the restroom entrance. The pale lights above attracted a variety of insects and each man absently waved them away on occasion when they flew too close.

While keeping his eyes facing forward, John said, "Dean, how about you finish what you started to say earlier."

Around the lump in his throat, Dean complied. "Sam was attacked by his coach sometime in '92."

At first, John's face conveyed a puzzled expression which lasted only a few seconds; it then morphed to one of distress. He sighed and stared upwards, past the overhang out to the black sky. "I know."

Dean whirled his head around to glare at his dad. "What?"

John met Dean's eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Dean. Please...just listen."

Dean resumed gazing straight ahead, kept his face void of emotion but for the increased rate of blinking.

"It was the damdest thing," John said. "I found a letter about it on my windshield...from one of Sam's teachers...Mr. Bensman. It came just as we were about to leave town. After a visit to the coach's house turned up empty, I learned that he was murdered just hours before and that Bensman was found at the scene of the crime."

Dean looked down to his feet and thought, 't_hat's fucked up...two molestation attempts in one trip...those two guys in Ohio and then in Missouri...with the murder...and now this,'_ then shook his head.

John caught sight of Sam exiting the restroom and walking to the sub shop across the way. "I've made mistakes…God knows I have, I admit it…but I learn from them, I don't dwell on them. As for Sam, he just didn't want to talk, and he was fine…I asked him a few times over the following days without trying to make him suspicious or put him on the spot…I felt like it was on him if he wanted to tell me...and he didn't." John let out a little mirthless laugh. "I kept a closer eye on Sam ever since and made you do the same."

_"_Yeah, I know you did and now I know the reason." Dean huffed out a long exhale and mentally added_, 'that's why I feel so guilty and nervous when he's not in my sight.'_

John reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "I can see you're upset...but like I said, Sam never told me himself what happened to him, he was fine. As a result, he doesn't know what I know."

Dean opened his mouth to speak but became momentarily distracted when one of the cars started up and drove off. "There's too much weird going on in our lives, even for hunters."

"I don't know if this is a coincidence," John replied. "I don't know what to think. All I know is that we just gotta look out for each other...I know how that sounds…"

"Of course...and don't worry, you know I'll look out for him."

John nodded then strode toward the restroom followed a minute later by Dean once he finished up the fueling process.

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Sam was leaning on the hood of the car when Dean and his father approached. He had set the food on the front seat and was reading a newspaper. When they were close enough, he lifted up one of the pages and pointed to a picture. "This is the guy in Missouri. It _was_ him who murdered the other man." Sam was taken slightly aback when his brother turned to glare at him, eyes wide with worry.

Dean snatched the page to see the photograph close up. "Shit, Sammy," Dean whispered in a voice laced with fear. Needing a tangible reminder of his little brother's well-being, he reached out and squeezed his Sam's shoulder. "He really might have intended to kill you…he was obviously capable."

John circled around to the passenger side. "Sam, we're past Denver. You drive now until daybreak then I'll drive the rest of the way, we should be at Caleb's by about two o'clock. Dean, it's your turn to rest in the back seat."

Dean and Sam exchanged one last appreciative glance then followed their father into the car and pulled their doors shut. When Sam turned the ignition, John reached under his seat for his bottle of Jack Daniels and proceeded to open it. As the smell of whiskey spread throughout the interior, Dean sniffed appreciatively. "Can I have some, too?"

John sighed but passed it to Dean who took two thirsty gulps. "Thanks," he said then handed it back.

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Just after midnight, a man and woman turned down a side street with only infrequent streetlamps that flickered on occasion to light their way. The woman's steady footsteps coupled with the man's staggering ones echoed throughout their otherwise silent surroundings.

The seclusion of the alley was just about ten more paces away and she let go of the inebriated man swaying next to her to produce an ornate chalice from her purse. With the momentary lapse of support the man started to keel over and she grunted in her effort to keep him mostly vertical.

"Where'r we goin'," he slurred.

"I need to find somewhere I can make a call undisturbed," she answered and half carried him the remaining distance around the corner.

He looked around and wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. "I tho' y' said we're goin' t'your place."

She brought him two more steps in to be surrounded by complete darkness but for the flash of a blade which was swiftly dispatched with purpose across his throat.

His eyes bugged out while his hands flew to his neck as an automatic response; they became covered in his blood as it gushed out. Trying to scream, he trembled and spasmed - alternately bumping into her and the brick wall. Holding the large cup under his bleeding wound, she followed his shaky motions until he collapsed onto the ground.

"I lied," she said then swirled her finger in the collected blood. "Tire quiero patem me a di."

Her eyes turned completely black when she gazed into the chalice. Nothing at first but then the blood slowly began to bubble. After a few seconds, she spoke. "You'll be pleased…everything is going according to plan." She paused to listen and replied, "the Winchesters will be here soon to hunt your witch and I then can get what Ruby will need for her spell when she makes it out." She listened once again then concluded, "yes, I understand...I won't reveal us."


	12. Chapter 12

No sooner did he sit back up when Dean was struck by a familiar swirling  
>sensation inside his brain; it eradicated all the dispiriting thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him several minutes before. <em>'It was an ambush!<em>' he told himself then softly chuckled at his odd response, concluding with a lopsided grin, _'I'm still such a lightweight...still_.'

Dean had his first taste of whiskey the night of his eighteenth birthday but approximately one planetary revolution around the sun later, two shots of the amber liquor hardly delivered the same numbing effect. Therefore, he reached down into his backpack to grab his dated walkman, acquired three years ago from a donation box.

Already inside this walkman was an Aerosmith tape that, though not his favorite, remained ready to be played for times when he just needed a break from the outside world, albeit temporary. As far as Dean was concerned, family always came first and so allowed himself the occasional reprieve. He remembered John telling him once, "you're no good to us burned out."

Feeling even better for having positioned the head set, Dean sprawled out along the back seat. He was now relaxed enough to imagine himself floating weightless on a calm body of water. He soaked up the feeling and sighed contentedly.

All that was left to do was to press _play _and close his eyes. The tune of _'Dream On' _trickled into his ears and Dean's smile grew. He succumbed to the melody, breathing in and out at a slower and steady rate...

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The darkness was divided by the flashlight in hand, directed downward. Sitting in the passenger seat, John's head was bent over his journal positioned on his lap; it was essentially the center of his attention but it did not take long before his ears picked up on Dean's deepened respirations.

It was then that the words began to blur. After a moment he rationalized, _'I must be tired, too._' Annoyed at his limitations, John squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to make them to work again.

Suddenly, he remembered having asked Sam to buy some food and opened his eyes to see the bag there in the space separating them. He picked it up but with one peak inside, his stomach protested, realized he was just too agitated to eat.

John then glanced at his younger son. But for his arms raised, controlling the steering wheel, Sam sat unmoving. Though it was not John's personality to try and drag anything out of his son, he felt compelled to break the silence. Despite having a good idea what Sam's answer would be, he held up the bag and asked, "Do you want this?"

Sam had been agonizing over what happened at the rest stop earlier; it was like sticking a finger into his own wound and twisting. Though he heard his father's question, it had little effect on stopping the damnable thoughts.

It took all his willpower to not whirl around and scream, _'Dad! You had said, "there's plenty of people around so there shouldn't be any trouble"...well there _was_ trouble!...there's a man murdered because of me and no matter how hard I try, I can't explain it!_' Instead, Sam shifted to his left, trying to create more distance between them.

"Sam?" John repeated, louder this time.

"No thanks, Dad...not hungry," Sam replied in a tight voice, keeping his eyes forward.

Never sure how to relate to Sam, it was even more daunting lately to handle a Sam who was trying to grow up. John closed the bag and set it down. "Well, it's here if you change your mind."

In his periphery, Sam watched his father blink then bend back over his journal. His father was going back to being aloof and he could handle that just fine.

But John could not get his tired eyes to cooperate. He flipped through a couple of pages before giving in to the realization that he couldn't think about Lincoln anymore. _'Fuck it! Who am I kidding? There aren't any more clues here...not about Lincoln...not about that thing that killed Mary,_' he raged to himself. _'Like I said before, I know it's past time to start searching elsewhere_.'

John grimaced, took another gulp of whiskey and once again, then slammed the journal shut. He caught sight of Sam flinching as he tossed it onto the dashboard.

Instantly, John was hit with a sense of dread. Sam's reaction just now coupled with his recent refusal of food was an echo of a time, years ago; he had seen this before and it wasn't hard to figure out when.

To John's dismay, he realized it was a recollection connected to the events Dean brought up at their last stop. Ever since that discussion, this memory was like a snake circling the foundation of a house, looking for a crack to slither into. He leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed, then allowed it to enter.

_He was reading the Sunday Times and just finished another article about the suspicious disappearances two states over. He then folded the newspaper and flung it down upon the table, hard. His young son flinched at the unexpected noise and dropped his fork which clattered when it hit the floor. He turned his full attention to Sam and sighed, "Sam, why aren't you eating?"_

_Dean looked up. "Yeah, you love spaghetti."_

_Sam kept his head down and replied, "sorry...you can have it. I'm just tired...I'm gonna go to bed."_

_The day before, he told his sons that they had forty-eight hours before moving on and was still surprised that Sam didn't complain in his normal fashion; instead, Sam was withdrawn...had been this way for about a week. He remained subdued while packing his few belongings. Sam pointedly avoided them, so he and Dean kept their distance as well. _

_His glare followed Sam as he got up and shuffled to the bathroom. This behavior was something new and John was starting to feel bothered. _

_Dean started to rise from his chair. "You're not getting sick are you?"_

_Without looking back, Sam replied, "no...I just have a lot to do tomorrow."_

_"Just let him go, Dean," he had said. He was determined not to be swayed by this new tactic of his younger son._

_The following Monday morning, Dean had cut school and the two of them kept busy with finding out what they could about the next job, making living arrangements, and checking the car. Despite everything, he found himself often thinking about Sam. He was finding it difficult to focus and was thankful Dean was there to help with what had to be done. _

_When Sam returned from an abbreviated school day, his head was still down, hair hanging over his eyes. Though skeptical, he asked, "ready?" _

_Sam looked up, his mouth twitched with a small smile. _

_Surprised, he blinked and drew back. He then regarded his son's eyes, was relieved to see they were bright. _

_"I'm all set, let's go," Sam said._

_"Well then,..." he stammered but recovered quickly "...you boys go to your room and make one last sweep...I'll warm up the car."_

_As soon as he stepped outside, he beheld a white rectangle placed deliberately under one of the Impala's windshield wipers. Like the flip of a switch, his good mood was tarnished; annoyance rippled through him for an unknown person had dared touch his car. He spun his head around but whoever did it was long gone. _

_He looked back at the paper then strode over to his car and grabbed what turned out to be an envelope. Ripping it open revealed a short letter in perfect writing._

'The soccer coach was a fucking chimo. He made one attempt to defile your son and I have it on good authority he was going to try again. I took care of him and you're welcome. Mr. Bensman.'

_The world started spinning and the blood drained from his face. In shock, he reread the words again and again until the reality sunk in. He then dropped his hand down, still clutching the note. His heart took over, started racing...he suddenly found it hard to breath._

John gasped and his eyes flew open, stinging with unshed tears. _'I'm sorry, Sam...I'm sorry. I believed you were just upset about leaving,_' he thought. The years certainly didn't lessen his rage and guilt over this nightmare experience.

While forcing his breath to even out, his hands patted around him in search of the whiskey. Two seconds later, the smooth glass bottle touched his skin and he hastily uncapped it then took a substantial swallow. He was mindful of how Sam quickly glanced over at him, said nothing, then went back to watching the road.

John shook his head. Sam would not allow him pass the threshold, then or now.

John swiped his hand across his mouth and turned to scrutinize his now fifteen year old son. The look on Sam's face didn't match with the one he remembered of seven or eight years ago, prior to his learning the truth about hunting.

_'Sam, this whole business breaks my heart...I'd end this all now if I could...but I can't...sorry, I just can't.' _

John tilted the bottle up to his mouth once more.

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_'That man who came into the restroom died because of me...we should have stayed to see the police arrive to take care of that fucking pervert...but "_no, we can't...we have to avoid attention_"...all because of Dad and his crusade_!' Sam thought bitterly.

There were a couple of times he became so enraged, he could not see straight and Sam caught himself before he lost control of the car.

Sam then decided it was more important to get to Henderson in one piece. He fought to maintain enough presence of mind to keep the car's speed slightly above the limit, just enough so; anything faster or slower might attract unwanted attention. His anger subsided as he tricked his mind into making driving the number one priority and focused on how important it was not to alert suspicion. Every time an occasional car approached, thinking _'I am a licensed driver' _over and over pushed aside his other worries.

Ever since Sam was allowed behind the wheel, he developed that little game, even though it had always been dark all around. But Sam didn't care if he was acting superstitious - he'd rather err on the side of caution. Though he knew, if his brother found out, he would get laughed at, Sam didn't think something that helped his driving performance to be that foolish.

Sam relaxed after yet another pass by occurred without incident but suddenly he could detect his father's eyes boring in to him. He kept his focus straight ahead of him - on the white broken lane lines, to watch out for potholes, on the sporadic road kill - anything to avoid his father's searching gaze.

There was a long silence thick with uneasiness. Many minutes went by and Sam started when John cleared his throat unexpectedly. "I'm glad we're out of Kansas."

Sam let that ride for a moment. He sighed when he suddenly realized he was tired of not talking. "I...I know you didn't want to have to stop there."

"Son, listen...I want you to put everything that happened today behind you. Anything that happens among people, criminal or otherwise, is for the authorities and doesn't concern us whatsoever. I know you are capable of that."

_'Who are you saying this for, me or you?_' Sam thought bitterly but merely said, "Yes, sir."

Sam's tone was a little too sarcastic for John's liking but he opted to respond by raising the whiskey bottle once again; he had done so enough times that the aroma of it wafted about.

Sam finally spared a closer look over to his dad with a raised eyebrow. "You're planning on hunting tomorrow, right?"

"I know my limits," John growled. "I'll be fine."

"It's just..."

John turned to face his son. "What? Just spit it out."

"You've been drinking more," Sam said in a raised voice.

The elder Winchester narrowed his eyes. "You watch..."

Sam knew what his father was about to say; he became more angry and could no longer hold back his emotions. "Are you even focused on this case?" he snapped.

John blinked at the interruption. In a moment of clarity, he realized that Sam sounded just like him and did not like how it made him feel. In the back of his mind, he Dean's voice say, _"next thing you know, he'll run off..."_

John instantly curbed his temper. "Tell you what...if you are so set a witch is doing this, first thing Dean and I will do is talk with the family, distract them while you can search the house for hex bags."

Sam's jaw clenched and he ground out, "yes, sir."

With that, both turned away from each other, without saying any more. The only sounds present were the running engine and the faint music of Dean's cassette.

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Two hours passed, Dean's music had long since stopped. John was dozing lightly but roused when moaning started to be heard. Coming from the back seat, they were soft at first - Sam and John could ignore them; but gradually, they became more pronounced.

Upon hearing Dean murmur, "Heather," Sam and John cleared their throats simultaneously. Another loud moan escaped from the back and Sam started to squirm with embarrassment. He reached for the radio but before he could switch it on, John said, "so about tomorrow..."

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_They broke off their kiss and he noticed they were standing next to her bed. He was wearing nothing and so reached to lift up her shirt. She stopped him with one hand and whispered, "I'll do it myself."_

_Next, he looked down to see Heather lying on the bed, now undressed; her long blond hair spread about, covering only her bare shoulders...he was hard instantly. _

_She was waiting for him; when their eyes met, hers were half-closed with lust. Without delay he vaulted onto the bed and positioned himself over her. _

_She pulled him down and her kiss was generous. All the longing and pent-up desire that he had felt from the moment he'd first seen her rushed passed his mind and coursed through his veins; his entire body vibrated with need. _

_She groaned and he instinctively pulled away slightly...he knew he had to force himself to calm down..._'she's so light, I might crush her,'_ he thought. In one fluid move, he swung her around so that she was now on top. _

_He angled his neck up and kissed her once again. His lips were closed at first...but she pressed her body fully against his and went limp so that her whole weight was in his arms, inviting him to open his mouth. When his tongue touched hers, she gave a little sigh of pleasure that sent the blood coursing through his body even faster. He couldn't hold back the sound that came from the back of his throat. _

_They moved again, this time only slightly, so that they were lying on their sides. He stretched out beside her, his kiss deepened and her body became even more pliant. Her leg went over his hips..._'she's ready_,' he realized but was not one to rush the process. His hand went up her bare thigh then over her round bottom. _

_"Heather," he murmured as he kissed her neck, her cheeks...all the places on her beautiful face that he had so longed to touch. _

_"Yes," she said. She moved her body even closer to his. "Do with me what you will."_

_He moaned again…her words reached places in him he never before knew existed._

_"Make love to me tonight and tomorrow we'll start the interviews with the family of the first vic." _

_'Mmmm' was all he could say as her lips moved down over his chest, and her soft hands made their way to his swollen organ. Electricity jolted through him...he threw his head back and he couldn't think clearly, but somehow, a word made its way to his brain. 'Interview?' _

_"Do you think the family will be willing to meet with reporters so soon after losing a loved one?" he heard Sam question from somewhere._

_He furrowed his eyebrows and thought, _'Sam's here?'_ He moved a little to the side but didn't find his brother anywhere. That move consequently plucked him out of the pool of ecstasy he'd been in and he realized she was no longer beside him. _

_"Of course...I see people talking on camera all the time just after losing a family member."_

'Dad?_'_

_Dean reached down for a sheet to cover himself but for some reason, was unable to grab onto it. He tried again..._

...and the feeling of empty air registered. Dean's eyes flew open and saw nothing but pitch darkness, found himself lying on the back seat.

'_No_!' He howled to himself._ 'It was just a dream...damn it! Just before we got to the good part!'_

He suddenly felt cold - everywhere but between his thighs. He started to sit up, the friction of his jeans caused his groin to throb uncomfortably, and he threw himself back down. "Aw, shit," he spat.

John looked over his shoulder and said, "you say something, Brad?" Dean didn't need to see to visualize the smirk on his dad's face.

"No, sir," Dean lied. Speaking just then made him aware that his ears were still covered by headphones. He held up his walkman and deduced the obvious – the cassette had reached it's end and clicked off automatically. "How long did I sleep?"

"About two hours," John replied. "Sam, pull over; Dean and I will switch places."

As Sam complied, Dean suddenly became aware of the fact that his brother had not uttered a single word since he woke up. _'If Dad could hear me dreaming, so could Sammy...why no "_I almost lost control and nearly crashed" _from him?...unless…' _Then it dawned on him_. 'Of course...they must be at it again_...'

John consumed the last of his whiskey before he pushed open his door then veered away, staggering several paces to relieve himself. A minute later, Dean was still rubbing his eyes when John had returned, knocked on the window, and yanked open the back door.

Dean climbed out and as they crossed paths, he could sense his dad's anger rolling off him in waves.

"What is it?" Dean whispered.

"See if you can do something about your brother," John growled in a low voice then jumped into to the back of the car. He unfolded himself along the seat and, after a matter of seconds, passed out.

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During this exchange, Sam still had not stirred; however, once Dean got situated, he turned to check the highway over his left shoulder and steered back out onto the unpopulated highway.

Sam had heard the brief conversation between his dad and brother and was worried Dean might be upset as well for he was often called upon to take care of his little brother; He thought it wise to let Dean make the first move. Sam feigned distraction by frequently checking the left mirror for any oncoming traffic, more so than required.

Dean nodded his head toward their father. "Now we _really_ have to look out for each other," he scoffed.

Sam replied in a flat voice, "it's not funny."

"I'm not laughing...it's on me to make sure he doesn't stop breathing." Dean turned to face his brother and said, "by the way, how're ya doin', Sammy?"

"It's Sam..." he snapped with a quick return glance. "...and I'm fine."

"I caught some of your conversation just now," Dean said, unperturbed. "I'll show you how to shave...you _are_ starting to show some fuzz..." Dean reached out to touch Sam's chin and Sam jerked away "...I bet if you shave it soon, a few hours later stubble will return and it'll look like you've been shaving for years."

While still facing forward, Sam said, "fuck off."

Just then, Dean was grateful for the darkness around them - his eyes might have expressed a brief flash of annoyance but he did not let Sam hear it in his voice. "What's with you?"

Sam hunched his shoulders slightly. "Sorry Dean. It's just...you mean _you're_ gonna look out for us. That's what you're already doing...you always have."

"Yes, I _am_ an awesome brother...I have always looked out for you." Dean's smile faded and eyes narrowed with suspicion. "That's never bothered you before..."

Sam sighed deeply. "I'm to be looking for hex bags tomorrow. It seems nothing has changed...I'm gonna take a back seat to this case as well."

Dean was silent for a moment then asked, "and you blame me? No, don't answer that." He brought his left leg up and turned to better face his brother. His voice was soft, tinged with unease. "Listen, maybe he's giving you the chance to prove your theory...sounds to me like he's taking you seriously."

The headlights from a passing car illuminated Sam's face as he merely rolled his eyes, unconvinced.

"Come on Sam! That's the standard way to see if we have a fucking witch on our hands...looking for hex bags _is_ a major step...one person distracts the family while the other person searches. If you were 'behind the scenes', he'd have you in a room somewhere watching _Lost In Space _reruns."

When Sam did not reply, Dean added as an afterthought, "God, I loved that show...but always felt bad for Penny and Will." Dean paused to allow for Sam's reply but there was nothing. He sighed, "you're supposed to ask, 'why did you feel bad for them?'"

Sam began to blink his eyes briskly.

"Sam?"

"That guy at the rest stop…" Sam took a shaky breath "...why me?"

"That's what's really bothering you?" Dean shuddered, the pervert's image in his mind.

"He cleared everyone out for me...why?"

"I don't know, Sammy. Maybe you were his target type...serial offenders sometimes have a type...seeing a certain kind of person is a trigger that causes them to kidnap, rape, murder...whatever the crime."

"Maybe."

After a minute of silence, Sam gave his brother a sidelong glance. "Dean, did you tell Dad yet? About...you know...when I was nine?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and briefly pursed his lips; again, he was thankful for the mask of darkness. "No. I changed my mind…I decided not to say anything after all."

"Oh...good. Thanks." Sam sounded genuinely relieved.

Dean glanced out his window, only to see his faint reflection. _'Don't thank me, Sammy. There's nothing to thank me for._' Eager to change the subject, Dean turned back to his left and asked, "which state are we in now?"

"Colorado...we're almost to Utah."

Dean nodded. "Utah...your favorite state."

The right corner of Sam's mouth twitched upward. "Mmmhmm.."

"Are we gonna drive through Salt Lake City?"

"No, we'll miss that one. I'll be turning off well south of it." Sam visibly hesitated, then added, "you know...the population of Salt Lake City is seventy percent Mormon."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Now I _know_ you're feeling better."

"It's just interesting...the city leaders are allowing religion to infiltrate public places. The Mormon church is trying to acquire downtown land, especially around the temple."

"Utah, man...with their watered down beer, friggin' booze regulations."

"Utah leads the nation in ice cream consumption."

Dean's mouth fell open, eyebrows raised in amazement. "How do you know this stuff?"

Sam shrugged. "I just read it somewhere."

They were quiet once more; only the gentle snoring was heard coming from behind the brothers.

Dean leaned back and exhaled. "I was having the most amazing dream..."

"Heather?"

"Yeah..." Suddenly, Dean whipped around and could tell Sam was teasing him but he went along. "How'd you know?"

"I'm psychic."

Dean looked up to the ceiling and let out a drawn out sigh. "I could write a fuckin' romance novel...boy rolls into town, saves the girl, girl is grateful..."

"God...you think you're such a stud."

Dean squirmed. "Fuck! I got so much pent up energy...if I don't gank some fugly soon it'll be all over for me...I'm gonna fucking explode."

Sam laughed. "Dude, you are not...but I will let you take the first shower."

"Whatever." Dean said absently, thinking. "Hey Sammy, since you're so nice to me now, I'm going to help you with your one of your problems."

Sam turned toward his brother, a single eyebrow raised.

"I've noticed...it's impossible not to...your voice has done changing, there's sometimes a black curly hair on the soap, the wet spots on the sheets sometimes, and sometimes…in the morning, you can't hide your..."

"Dean! Shut up!"

Dean burst out. "Sam, it's okay! You know I went through all of that, too."

"Still are and more," Sam said under his breath.

Dean reached out and smacked Sam lightly upside the head.

"Watch it! I'm driving," Sam complained.

"My point is...now you need to know how to catch a girl's interest in the least amount of time, our life being what it is...I've decided when we're done in Henderson, we're going to Vegas…you may not be ready to give it up yet, but…"

"Really?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Dad is going to dump us somewhere and go to Bobby's for a while."

"For what? How do you know?"

"I don't know _why_. He just told me back in Amherst, just before we left…you were still sleeping." Instantly, Dean recalled that morning - he had noticed Sam looked like he just woke up from a nightmare.

Dean looked down, drew one hand along his face then focused back up to his brother. "Sam, help me understand something..."

"What?"

"Why all this drive to hunt recently?"

"Back to this subject again," Sam balked.

"Last time I ask, promise. I just want to know where your head's at...what caused you to suddenly want to train harder?"

"I'm just doing what Dad wants...it's time for me to step up more...pull my own weight, that's all."

"That's all, huh?...target practice at four in the morning?"

Sam's profile revealed a sheepish expression. "I thought you guys where asleep that time."

Dean sighed, "Sam, that's not an answer."

"Okay...I couldn't sleep..."

"You had another nightmare."

"...so I decided to do something productive. I ran the three miles and practiced a few shots. I figured, with your late night out and Dad passing out, you guys wouldn't wake up for a while...wait, did you follow me?"

"Dad was furious...apparently he saw you weren't there and yelled, he woke me up...the only way I could calm him down was to say I'd watch after you."

The brothers exchanged glances, Dean's clearly conveyed one of _'I know there's more to the story._'

A story Sam did not want to tell for many reasons. He could not lie to himself, he was afraid of his dad and brother's reaction if he confessed everything about the situation that triggered his nightmares, that he let a kitsune escape. So much time went by that he knew they would be more furious that he never told them to begin with. But deep down, above it all, Sam had not changed his mind about not giving Dean more to worry about. "Let's just...I...it's just that for the first time, I get what's really out there and I want to be more prepared. That's it."

"That's it..." Dean said with searching eyes, a matter of fact but disbelieving tone "...really."

Dean..." Sam turned back to the road, opened his mouth to speak more but his mouth suddenly became to dry. _'_I feel like...I don't know...a target...like no matter what I do, evil is following me around and it will strike no matter what, it's just a matter of when._'_

After a moment, Dean persisted. "What?"

Sam swallowed. "You know we'll be there in a few hours...I say you should rest more in case Dad can't drive later."

Dean glared at his brother for a minute but Sam's expression remained stoic. Dean then turned, leaned on to his right and closed his eyes. "Fine. You know to stop when the sun starts coming up."

Sam gave a long suffering sigh. "Yes, I know. Now shut up, will you?"

Dean's eyes remained closed when he replied in a fading voice, "I know you know…just testing you."

"Dean you baby me too much."

"You still should shave."

Sam wordlessly shook his head, amused once again and thought affectionately, _'jerk.' _ He stared at Dean, his back now to him and added_, 'if I am a target, fine. I'll fight but I can accept my fate...but it'll be over my dead body before I let anything happen to you.'_

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A chair was scraping across her kitchen floor. Susan's eyes shot open, she held her breath and stilled herself to detect if anymore sounds would come. Then she saw light, muted by the distance, come through when the downstairs switch was turned on.

"Well come on…I haven't got all night," a female voice said, low-pitched.

Susan let out a large sigh and lay there for another moment before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. With trepidation, she stepped lightly down the stairs and made her way to the lit room. The overhead bulb started to flicker and confirmed what she believed she was dealing with.

It never got easier, witnessing their ghastly faces. Susan steeled herself to be able to look at it directly, so as not to offend. She held back her gasp as she turned the corner; there it was, beneath a poor woman with dark curly hair falling down past her shoulders and smooth olive skin. She swallowed then recovered. "You demons...you always take the good looking ones."

"That's not entirely true," the intruder answered, with an earnest expression. Then the female tilted her head, glanced around and smiled. "Nice kitchen, Susie."

"It's Susan." She grabbed a chair and sat down across from the intruder. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Good to meet you too. My name is not important...I was never here."

"Look, I did what I was told...now what do…aaahhh!" Susan was heaved up from her chair by an invisible force, thrown against a wall and pinned there.

The demon stood up and her eyes turned black, her expression became cruel; she was no longer beautiful on the outside. "Let me finish," she said in a cold, hard voice. Then the smile returned but formed into a twisted sneer. "Azazel owns your soul...you will show respect."

Susan could not even move to nod.

The demon held Susan's eyes transfixed as she walked slowly toward her. "There is a fifteen year old boy by the name of Sam Winchester...he will be arriving into Henderson shortly, with his father and brother, to investigate the deaths you caused." Susan's gaze was released when the demon presented a picture of Sam in front of her face.

Susan looked at the image and immediately thought, _'he reminds me of my long dead son_.' She blinked and in that split second, the photo was dropped to the floor and Susan gasped in shock to see it's face an inch from hers. Susan grunted as the demon grabbed her left breast with one hand and reached down to her crotch with the other.

"What the hell..." she uttered angrily through pressed together lips.

The demon leaned closer, her icy breath tickled Susan's ear when she spoke next. "Your next assignment is to bring me his semen."

In all her years as a witch, she had never needed something like that to work her spells. Susan narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "Why?" she spat, trying to squirm out of the demon's perverted hold.

The female demon stepped back, shrugged and turned away.

Suddenly she felt it hard to breathe; Beth's ribs were straining against a greater pressure, pushing her deeper into the wall. Just before she was sure one of her bones was about to break, the feeling disappeared. It was a warning.

Susan was not easily intimidated. "Why me? Why can't you do it, you bitch? You're wearing a pretty woman."

Now leaning against a counter, the demon replied, "I would love to be the one but…all you need to know is Sam is special...this is a delicate matter."

"Bullshit!"

"Fine! You need to know? I'll tell you! Stealth is vital and I still sometimes make lights flicker. The father didn't notice last time but if he sees it a again, he might get suspicious."

'_That's it? That's the reason?'_ Susan saw the truth in that but it seemed so insignificant."Why not just kill them and take Sam yourself."

"I have orders not to..." Then the demon gave a sarcastic smile. "Not bad, Susie...I've already said too much."

Instead of thinking what that could mean, she envisioned her son at that age. Susan bent her head down. "I just don't think I can do this," she whispered.

She looked up when she heard the demon murmur, "time for plan B." Susan squeezed her eyes shut when she saw a knife suddenly flying right toward her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Having driven about six hours straight - on a virtually empty highway, which left him with way too much time to think - Sam breathed a sigh of relief when the sun started to show itself on the horizon. Though he did not know why, he felt cured of the nightmares about Amy and was looking forward to the next time he could sleep.

At approximately five-thirty in the morning, Sam spotted a service station with no other car in sight. _'This looks like a good place to switch_,' he thought. His dad and brother started to stir as he slowed the Impala and pulled off the road.

They were now along the route 15 junction; it was the final major road that would take them directly to Henderson. He was grateful to be able to report, "from this point we should be at Caleb's around nine o'clock."

"Yeah, okay," his dad mumbled from the back, face still down.

Sam took a moment to check the surroundings. Beneath the muted sky, the topography was flat and he could see for miles. At this hour, the ground was grey and blended into light purple the further away he looked. The cool colors were deceptive for when Sam inhaled, the air was already very warm.

The car door creaked, announcing Sam's exit and Dean opened his eyes all the way just in time to catch a glimpse of his brother disappearing behind the restroom door.

With a loud moan, Dean stepped out of the car himself and stretched as did John not far behind.

Dean grimaced. "The sun just came up and it is already friggin' hot! This case is gonna be a bitch!"

It was as if the heat was almost visible. Each man was discouraged by it, counteracted the ever brightening sunshine with gloomy silence. While Dean continued to straighten his back, he watched as John walked off toward a random point then halt after a minute and pull out his phone.

Sam had since returned and started to uncap the gas tank. Dean circled around then gestured to a building up the road. "I see a place where we can get coffee and food."

Sam nodded as he stood by, fueling the car. "Sounds good."

"I'll go over now...when the car is ready, meet me there."

It was not long before John was back, waiting by the driver's door. Sam saw an odd look on his face when he turned around, having replaced the hose on the pump.

"What is it?" asked Sam.

"Caleb said there's a third death, same circumstances, just last evening...get in, we can't waste any more time."

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"Nevada's population is almost 2 million," Sam commented from the back seat as they crossed the state border. "Las Vegas has 400-500 thousand... I don't know about Henderson."

"I'm just gonna say it...you are such a geek," Dean quipped. "Lesson number one, Sam. Don't ever let a girl think you are smarter than her."

_'I want a girl who likes me the way I am...I'll never be something I'm not_,' Sam thought in response but nothing more was spoken out loud for the remainder of the drive

Sparse desert landscapes were a blur to the eye as John sped along with single minded determination. They made the city limits in just over three hours.

John guided the car off the highway and on to route 168. About twenty minutes later, they turned left onto a small secondary road and observed a small neighborhood before them with only a handful of houses. In front of a two story Spanish style structure stood a man watching them - Caleb. He was of medium build with blond thinning hair.

As they pulled into the driveway, Caleb moved from close to the door along the front yard, just off to the left of the Impala once it came to rest.

He nodded to each as John stepped out of the car, followed by Sam and Dean.

"Hey, Caleb," John said with a smile, arm extended.

Caleb shook his hand. "Glad to see you finally made it." He turned to Sam and said with a wink, "you must be Dean."


	13. Chapter 13

Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on Sam, waiting for his reply. "Uh...I'm Sam...he's Dean," he stammered, nodding his head toward his brother's location.

Caleb's smile was huge and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Aw, I was just messin' with ya." He then reached out to shake Sam's hand then Dean's once he came around the front of the car. "Man...'bout time I finally get to meet you all face to face..." Caleb pointedly studied each Winchester boy "...but not in the literal sense...shit, John, did your kids have to be so tall too?"

Dean and Sam grinned at their dad who glanced up from his current position behind the raised trunk and shrugged his shoulders.

Caleb gently shook his head, indicating _'whatever'_, faced Sam once again and narrowed his eyes. "Wow...Sam, you sure look like your daddy."

Dean laughed at that, "yeah...except for the scrawny build."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, amused look disappeared as his jaw slightly dropped in surprise; it was the first time anyone ever told him that. "Really?" he murmured to himself.

Ever amazed at desert scenery, Dean slowly spun around with one hand shading his eyes from the bright solar glare. Caleb's backyard was a vast expanse; there was just land, upon vast and barren land. "This really is the middle of nowhere."

"Welcome to my world," Caleb said, wiping his forehead. "But for now...let's get out of this damn heat."

Caleb motioned toward the door of his house and the Winchesters eagerly took turns grabbing their belongings from the back of the car then followed him inside.

Upon stepping over the threshold, John noticed the sparsely furnished living room. There was a sofa, loveseat, lamp on a nearby round table and a modest television in the far corner. The cream colored walls appeared more tan due to the fact that the shades were still down.

"Feels so good in here," Dean commented with a satisfied sigh from behind John.

Sam had been the one to close the trunk and so was the last to enter. "You must have central air."

"Hell yeah, don't know what I'd do without it. Would have to move up north if I had to rely on window units...I would never use them, they're too noisy...would never hear if someone tried to break in." Caleb turned to John and pointed out, "now, the kitchen, as you can see, is off to the left and a small bathroom is just down the hall. It'll be a little tight...one of my three bedrooms upstairs is used to store all my weapons. You all can figure out who sleeps where in the other two bedrooms."

John frowned. "And where are you going to sleep?"

"Sofa city," Caleb winked. "Go on now...make yourselves at home."

John and Sam followed Dean up to the second level. A quick glance to the left revealed the weapons storage room Caleb spoke of so Dean veered to the right, passed a full bathroom and walked into the bedroom he saw had two beds. "Caleb must have guests often...no way he'd go out and get beds just for us."

"I'll take the full size one," said Sam as he quickly pushed his way in, plopped down on it and leaned back, testing it out.

Dean tossed his duffel bag onto the adjacent twin bed and yanked it open. "Okay."

_''Okay'...'okay'?' _Sam sat back up when Dean didn't immediately retract the affirmation or attach conditions. _'Dean's being generous...he doesn't do generous.' _

Sam was stunned to see a pleasant countenance on Dean even while he was picking out clothes from his bag, one at a time; he sniffed each one and tossed them onto the floor.

"You're in a good mood...what's got you all keyed up?"

Dean's eyebrows lifted, he could not believe his brother asked that and flung the shirt currently in his grasp at Sam. "We're now officially on another case, dumbass," Dean answered.

Sam huffed in disgust and hastily brushed the dirty article of clothing off his head. "It's only been three days!"

"Yeah, well..."

John appeared in their doorway, as if out of nowhere, and took in the scene. "Don't get too comfortable just yet...come down and get something to eat..." John tilted his head toward the pile by Dean "...then clean up your mess...Caleb has a washer and dryer."

Caleb had just set some waffles into the toaster when the Winchester's joined him in the kitchen, seating themselves around the rather large round wooden table.

"So what do ya think about the situation?" Caleb asked, placing a syrup bottle in arms reach of everyone.

"Could be some type of demon," John replied.

"Or could be a witch," Sam reasoned. "Witches kill for different reasons, to stay young, for revenge...you name it."

"I hate friggin' witches," Dean said with a sneer.

Caleb paused in case Dean wanted to elaborate and the room was suddenly filled with silence. He looked around and beheld all of his guests slouched in their seats, lost in their own thoughts; the sight made him chuckle. "Well...I took a week's vacation from work, so if you need me to help with anything, just let me know."

Dean straightened in his chair. "You work for a casino, right?"

"I work for the security, surveillance division," Caleb said, placing a cup of coffee then a plate of waffles at each place.

Sam fidgeted in his seat, stated, "thanks, Caleb...I'll get the dishes when we're done," and surrreptitiously kicked his brother's chair.

Dean instantly looked up and mumbled with his mouth full, "yeah, thanks Caleb."

Sam shook his head at not getting the response he was hoping for. He just hunched over his food, forked a piece into his mouth and said nothing more.

Caleb nodded, sat between Dean and John. "Well don't get used to this service...from now on, you just make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Caleb," John repeated then the room became silent once again while everyone ate.

Five minutes later, John set down his utensil on an empty plate. "I say we first get in to the morgue...see the body before too much more time goes by."

Dean's face brightened. "Good idea," he said around another mouthful of food.

The eldest Winchester stood up and focused on his boys. "Meanwhile, you two are to shower then rest."

Sam glanced up at that, just in time to see his brother's face fall as he swallowed.

"What about you?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine...I can rest later."

"Dad, I'm not tired."

"Dean..." John spun around just as he was about to leave the room "...I said, 'No'."

"Besides," Caleb added, straightening up himself. "There's no time to make your badges, not to mention the fact that you look like a nineteen year old."

"Only 'coz you know he's nineteen," grumbled Sam.

John pointed a finger at Sam. "You watch your attitude."

Caleb washed down his bite and said, "I already got the intel on the vics and where they lived, worked, their families. I swung by the third vics house earlier...it is still crawling with crime scene detectives."

"Dad's worked in those situations before," Sam informed Caleb then looked at his father. "Dean and I can sneak in and look for hex bags...the place is still hot and it's better to find any clues sooner than later...really want to know what we're dealing with."

John sighed in an effort to maintain his temper, his eyes tracking between Dean and Sam as he spoke. "Later we'll _all_ check out the vics' homes...interview the families. I won't say it again...you boys rest...you're no good to me like this. Now, one of you go to the car and get my suit...I'll need it," John added as he turned back around. "I'll be taking a shower."

He then glanced over his shoulder at Caleb, said, "I should be ready in about fifteen minutes," and proceeded upstairs.

"I'll call the hospital and let them know the 'CDC' is on it's way."

Sam set his mug down loudly. "But..." he persisted.

Dean jumped out of his chair and patted his brother on the back, pushing him toward the kitchen exit. "Sam, Dad's right...I'm exhausted and I can't sleep until you do."

More forcibly than was required, Dean dragged his brother outside to retrieve what their father requested. They both groaned upon smacking into the wall of heat, squinted their eyes against the sudden assault of bright light.

"Why didn't you try harder to go?" Sam hissed, following behind Dean. "They could've worked something out."

Without a word, Dean closed the distance to the car, unlocked the trunk, and bent down to grab the intended duffel. Dean then gave Sam a scathing stare and whipped the suit bag at him.

Sam reflexively caught it with a perplexed expression. "What?"

"Never argue with Dad in front of someone else," Dean spat then, without a backward glance, he stormed right to the house and stated, "I'm gonna take the next shower."

Sam knew then he had better give Dean his space.

Several minutes passed. Towel wrapped around his hips, a freshly scrubbed John stepped out of the bathroom and strode by his boys' room. A sidelong glance showed Dean was in there; he was rummaging through his duffel bag, his back to the door. Caleb's voice rose up from downstairs, distant and low - he could only make out the word "tv". _'Sam must be down there...avoiding Dean,' _he thought as he continued to his room_._

That was fine with John - the less drama before he left, the better. But he wished it was Dean below instead; he was not looking forward to being the subject of Sam's predictable glare following him out when he left. John sighed and reached for his suit hanging on his bedroom door hook.

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The air conditioner cranked up to its highest level was the only sound inside the car. Riding shotgun in Caleb's dark green Ford Explorer on the way to the hospital, John remained silent and appeared to be watching the scenery passing by. Caleb postulated his friend's aloofness was brought on by the earlier tension between John and Sam.

"Fucking demons!" John growled.

Caleb flinched slightly at his friend's sudden outburst.

"Excuse me?"

John was looking down at his feet now, his expression remained hidden. "I am kinda hoping Sam is right about this...that it is a witch doing this."

Caleb was taken aback; his theory, that John had been contemplating Sam and his teenaged angst, was crushed. He hurried to come up with a reply, but it was not too hard to do for this was a subject that played in his mind ever since he met the man. "John, I don't know why you don't go after demons or tell your sons about them."

"Oh, they know about demons...theoretically...thanks mostly to Bobby, though he's never actually told them what happened to him..." John shuddered "...those demon sons of bitches chew and spit out most people_. _I have to be sure that when demons try to sink their teeth into them, Sam and Dean will make them choke. No...now is just not the right time for them to hunt demons...they're not ready."

"Are you sure that it's wise to wait?"

"Dean's almost there but Sam is really only just starting out...they both need more training. You know, just after you called, I felt my boys could handle a case involving a demon but while driving across the country, I started to have my doubts...plus Dean thinks Sam should at least wait. If it is a demon, I'm sending both boys away."

"You know Bobby's the go to guy when it comes to demons, why not call him if that's what this is?"

"We're on the outs more often than not, but I would...especially for the sake of protecting my boys."

"No offense...but I'm glad I don't have kids."

"Fuck you," John replied without venom.

"Hey, that's actually a compliment...I admire parents...raising kids is a tough job...especially alone."

"If I had known what was coming, I never would've had them," John whispered.

Caleb's jaw dropped and he whipped his head around to confront John. But he found his friend was back to focusing on the scenery speeding by outside his passenger window. Caleb considered the statement, shrugged and felt that John must just be tired and had not really meant to say it.

Caleb then decided it was a good time to change the subject. "About a month ago, I stopped by the Roadhouse."

John straightened in his seat and asked, "how're Ellen and Jo?"

"They're holding up fine."

"Good to know."

"I saw Martin...he says to say 'hey'."

John smiled slightly. "That putz? He still hunting?"

"Oh, yeah." Caleb paused, looked over his left shoulder as he changed lanes. He then asked, "so what were you doing in Amherst a few days ago?"

"We were hunting a poltergeist..." John opened his mouth as if to verbalize more but remained silent.

"Great...and?"

"...everything was by the book. Dean and Sam pretty much ran the show for this...I was very proud of them."

Caleb sighed. "John, I work in the security business...I can tell there's something you're not telling me."

John fixed Caleb with a piercing stare. "You're good," he said then faced to the front. "While in Amherst, I left the boys alone for a couple of days...sudden, with no warning, no word...man, were they pissed."

"What happened?"

"I saw a woman who looked just like Mary and I'm gonna only say two words...drunken blackout."

Caleb smirked and shook his head. "Any leads on the thing that killed her?"

"Nothing specific...but the more things I hunt, the more I narrow it down...demon is now looking like the culprit."

"Back to demons again."

John fixed Caleb with a glare. "This is strictly between you and me."

"Of course," Caleb said. "That reminds me...at the Roadhouse, I crossed paths with someone who knows someone by the name of Elkins...he's been claiming there's a gun out there that can kill demons...said someone a long time ago was looking for it for that reason...said it was a Colt."

"Any idea where this Elkins guy lives?" John asked as Caleb took the turn off and pulled into the hospital lot and parked the car.

"Somewhere in Colorado..."

Both men got out and faced each other over the top of the vehicle.

Caleb added, "...I didn't think much of the story it but I can ask around if you're interested."

John nodded, a distant look in his eyes. "Might be."

Sweltering in their suits, each man shared one last a look which communicated a desire to get indoors; they hurried to get out of the heat with Caleb guiding the way to the entrance.

"Do you know what you're gonna say?" Caleb asked once through.

John straightened his tie and said, "I've done this many times...it's always pretty much the same dialogue...just follow my lead."

At the front desk, John cleared his throat to get the woman's attention. "Hi, I'm Dr. Ford and this is Dr. Fisher...would you please direct us to the morgue." He and Caleb then presented their 'Center for Disease Control' badges and even bigger smiles which bought them unquestioned access to their destination.

"Oh, yes," the receptionist said. "I was told to expect you. Just take your first left here, take a right at the end of the hall and you will find an elevator...go to the basement level and follow the signs to the morgue...I will notify one of the doctors on the case you are coming."

"Thank you," Caleb replied.

He and John continued on as directed and moments later arrived to find a man with a white coat standing by the last door. Upon seeing them, he came to attention and held out his hand. "Gentlemen, I am Dr. White."

"Thank you for seeing us..." John leaned in and grasped his hand "...with little prior notification."

"Well, I appreciate your coming in but I was expecting a Dr. Johnson."

"He may arrive later on but we were in the general area."

Dr. White nodded. "Alright. Well, please follow me."

John and Caleb were guided to a far wall of metal drawers; the third one up on the left was opened to reveal a body with the markings of a recent autopsy.

"This is the latest case...Andrew Spellman, age forty-nine...in excellent health one day and found dead the next."

"May we have a copy of each man's file?" Caleb asked.

"Of course...," the doctor frowned "...it's standard procedure..." he walked to the shelves along the adjacent wall and reached for the three folders "...I have them ready right here."

John received them as they were presented to him. "Has this body been cleaned yet for the purpose of a wake?"

"No. The family are requesting a cremation for him."

"Thank you, Dr. White. We have no further questions."

"And we have no answers...it's the damnedest case." Dr. White glanced at John and Caleb standing there, staring down at the corpse. "Alright, well, I leave you to it then," he said then strode out of the room.

John handed Caleb the files and donned a pair of latex gloves. He carefully inspected the body lying before them starting with the head.

Caleb anxiously looked on, transfixed by the still figure on the table. _'Did I just see its arm just twitch?_' To him, the body seemed to emanate some vibration of life, seemed as if its eyes could blink open any second. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut then focused on the examination John was performing, thankful he was not doing this alone.

As soon as John passed over the victim's hip and thigh area, he straightened up and shook his head. "I think I can rule out a succubus."

"Time to go, right?" Caleb asked in response.

"Yeah."

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Sprawled on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, Sam had given his dad the best turbulent expression of which he was capable and, of course, was ignored. No sooner had Caleb left with his dad when Sam heard Dean bring himself out of their bedroom, into the bathroom and the soft click of the door as it was shut. Sam sighed loudly and a quick glance of his watch told him it was approximately ten o'clock. Water was turned on upstairs and Sam decided he was going to use the few minutes he had to get a better look at Caleb's supply room; _'nothing usually is good on now, anyway.'_

Sam stood just outside the doorway, eyes brushing over the various collection of munitions and weapons, some of which he recognized: rifles, semi-automatic handguns, grenades. He was fascinated by it all but knew not to handle anything...

...then spied a gallon size paint can with 'experimental cleaner' scrawled on it with thick black marker. _'What's the harm in checking that out?_' Without another thought, he stepped into the room and reached out to lift the lid for a peak inside. Sam felt a bit of residue on the top then suddenly, the tips of his fingers started to sting, lightly at first but its intensity rapidly increased.

"Shit!" Sam cried. He yanked his now burning hand back, clutched it to his chest, and rushed back down the stairs. A split second later he had arrived before the kitchen sink, forced up the faucet and was momentarily stunned when something cold splashed him in the face and sprayed past him. "Fuck!" escaped from his lips, dripping wet from the stream of water coming from his bangs and rolling down his shut eyes and on to his nose.

Sam angled his head away from the direct assault, half-opened his eyes and saw that source was the spray hose. He immediately lunged forward and pushed down on the faucet. Water no longer gushing towrd him, Sam was able to inspect the nozzle closely and saw that the mechanism had gotten stuck somehow.

_'Dean...if you did this, you are such a child,_' Sam thought quickly before having his burning fingers call back his attention; the affected area was very reddened by now. Without wasting any time trying to fix the problem, Sam bent the hose down and used that to wash off the toxic chemicals on his hand. He flushed the skin for five minutes before detecting some relief.

Just as he turned off the water he heard his brother yelling "Sam!"

Sam sped upstairs, was about to pound on the door when it suddenly opened. He stumbled inside and nearly squished Dean against the opposite wall. Sam immediately righted himself and, slightly out of breath, said, "Dean..." observed his brother standing there, stark naked and dripping wet "...what the hell?"

"Aw...were you worried about me, Sammy?" Dean said in a mocking voice then changed his tone, gesturing wildly. "Thanks for taking all the towels!"

Dean was not modest; he made no attempt to cover himself and was starting to show signs of being cold. Sam tried not to laugh. "I did not! I swear!"

"Don't piss me off...they couldn't have all gotten up on their own and walked out!"

"So then how..." Sam looked past Dean's shoulder into the opened linen closet, saw that it was, in fact empty "...hey! I'll see if I can find the one Dad used." Sam turned out of the bathroom and strode to John's room, scanning around until he caught sight of a towel hanging over the back of a chair. He snatched it and called out, "how could you take a shower without making sure you had a towel, Dean?" as he made his way back to his brother.

"I did have one..." Dean's expression suddenly was one of puzzlement "...I'm pretty sure."

Sam held it out for Dean to take and reasoned, "you must be tired."

Dean held up the towel, saw it was on the small side and could not manage to cover much more than his front end.

A strangled sound escaped from the back of Sam's throat and Dean looked back up, his glare even more intense. "What the hell are you lookin' at?"

Sam could not hold back any longer and burst out laughing. "You look so fucking ridiculous!" Sam uttered between gasps.

It was then Dean really saw Sam - his face and shirt were rather wet. "I look ridiculous? What about what happened to you?"

The brothers' eyes met, Sam's sparkling with the humor of it all. Dean's pursed lips slowly spread into a smile as he picked up on Sam's mood.

"At least I have the sense to take off my clothes when I take a shower," Dean quipped. Both brothers succumbed to another round of laughter until, moments later, Dean looked down slightly and immediately frowned. "What happened to your hand?"

"I...I was...burned...by some chemicals in Caleb's supply room."

"Serves you right...doing something you shouldn't have."

"Whatever...I better clean up the kitchen before they get back."

"No...we treat your burn first...I have some cream in my bag." With one hand Dean pushed Sam toward their room, with the other hand he held the precariously placed towel in place.

"No, _first_ you get dressed."

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Sitting behind the wheel of her newly aquired red Mustang, a shadow came into view. "Damn it," Meg whispered.

Meg knew right away it was her brother, called Ian, who was heading her way. His presence was not a good sign, for lately any time he appeared it was because he was sent to keep her in line.

The shadow grew steadily larger as he crept closer to the passenger side, yanked open the door and slid smoothly onto the seat. Only when he slammed the door shut did she school her sneer and face her brother who was this time beneath the skin of an average looking male with brown hair wearing a tank top and khaki shorts. Just short of batting her eyelashes, she attempted to convey innocence.

He returned her look with a furious expression. "What do you think you're doing?" he spat, deadly serious.

Meg pouted. "What...can't I have any fun while I do my job?"

"We're not so sure you're really working at all...the gas station in New York?...the rest stop in Missouri?...and now why is our key player dead?"

Meg tensed and narrowed her eyes into mere slits. "'_Our'_? This is my mission, not yours."

"Just 'coz you're wearing a female doesn't make you any better suited to getting the Winchester boy's semen."

"Oh no...you're not getting it...I know how you like to do it...you'd ruin him! If you weren't my brother, I'd want to kill you."

Ian shrugged at that. "What happened to the plan with the witch?"

"She refused to cooperate...fear didn't work, bullying didn't work."

"Diplomacy was never your strong suit."

"Give me a break. I even made up some story about how I couldn't do it because I can't control the flickering lights."

Her brother scoffed. "She was a witch, Meg. They all know that we demons cause lights to flicker, leave sulfur behind only when we want to reveal our presence...leave a trail." A thought came to him and he looked at her with suspicion. "You haven't been doing that, have you?"

"Just a couple of lights," Meg conceded and hastily added, "I only just found out this was to be a totally covert operation."

"You really shouldn't have killed her."

"Look, Ruby needs Sam's semen to work her spell..."

"On a first name basis, are we?"

"...something about needing to influence him someday...and it doesn't matter how you get it. He's just the right age, susceptible to a woman's charms...I don't need any witch's potions. I can do this with out revealing our involvement."

"That means your toying with them has to stop."

"Fine," Meg snarled. "Why are you so scared of them anyway?"

"I am not scared," Ian answered evenly. "I am concerned and you should be, too. Of all the people we've tangled with, only the Winchesters have been actively searching for us. We need to be careful."

"Why, there's nothing that can kill us."

"Don't be so sure. The father has gotten close...he's the only one who won't let bygones be bygones...but it's been a while and I'm starting to think he's moved on. I will say the good thing in all of this is that you managed to do something useful by bugging his car a few days ago...learn anything yet?"

"Winchester's sons are the most codependent siblings I have ever seen and I have seen a lot of people."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You're not developing a soft spot for the Winchester boy, are you? To me he's just an ant; don't know why you and Azazel think of him as so much more. You know, I'll take you right back to hell myself if you screw this up..."

Meg sighed. "You're not nearly as fun as I am but know this...I'll kill him and his boys if they ever really tried to come after us. Look my father comes first and these Winchesters should be destroyed before they ever try to hurt him."

"Azazel says not to interact with them...and now the witch can't do the job thanks to you. I just got done meeting with him, had to calm him down for your sake...so what's my reward?"

"Well you missed a good show," Meg teased. "You should've seen the look on Sam's face just now."

Ian shook his head in disgust over her response. _'I don't think Meg is all that serious about this_...t_ime to call on some help, call in a few favors_," he thought to his reflection, admiring the handsome face in the side view mirror. He reached for the door handle, opened it and before stepping out, turned back to Meg and said, "you know, you really should take better care of your host...shouldn't be sitting too long in a closed car in this kind of heat."

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The brothers were sleeping by the time John and Caleb returned to the house. Both immediately changed out of their suits then John decided he was exhausted and shut himself in his room for three hours. Caleb passed the time watching classic movies.

Later that day, the four men sat around the kitchen table once again to discuss the case while John was focused on reading through the medical charts he had in front of him. Caleb had just reported on what they saw in the morgue to Sam and Dean.

"Do you have anything to add?" asked Caleb.

"In U.S. law, deaths are placed in one of five categories: natural, accident, homicide, suicide, and undetermined," Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's his way of saying something without really saying something."

"Okay, then. I need a drink," said Caleb, getting up. "Sam, you drink beer yet?"

Dean responded with an emphatic, "no."

At the refrigerator, Caleb pulled open the door and asked, "you let him hunt but not drink a beer?" then grabbed three bottles and turned back around.

"Guys, I'm right here," Sam stated.

"I guess it's because he hunts, we follow the rules in everything else.

Sam was annoyed. "Dean, you're drinking and you're two years under the legal limit."

"Well then, it's 'coz you're the baby of the family." Dean reached out to ruffle his brother's hair but before he could, Sam knocked his hand away. Dean faced Caleb and added, "I can't help it...I've always watched out for this kid...Dad might allow it but not me."

Just then, John slammed the last folder shut. "No chemical or hormonal abnormalities...I wish I could've seen the other two bodies just to be sure there were no clues."

Sam grabbed all the charts from his dad and commented, "most autopsies are performed as soon as possible. The quality of the body's tissues deteriorates over time due to bacterial contamination and other decay processes affect the body."

Caleb laughed. "...and on that note, I say we make some dinner. Do you like spaghetti or macaroni?"

John frowned. "I take it you don't cook much."

"How'd you know?"

"For now spaghetti will be fine. Tomorrow sometime we'll go shopping for food."

Caleb shook his head. "Living here in the summer, you'll find we do those kind of things at night...the other option is getting up at the ass crack of dawn. I know a good twenty-four hour store I'll take you to."

Caleb then got up and started to collect what he needed to heat up water and tomato sauce.

John stood up and said, "Caleb, you and I can watch the news. Sam and Dean have got this." He then strode into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Well, fine," Caleb responded and looked at John's sons, set the pans onto the counter. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Hey, Caleb," Sam said. "I noticed earlier a can labelled 'experimental weapons cleaner'. How well does it work?"

"It's QSOL 300...it works like a dream. But you should be careful...to use it you need elbow length chemical impervious gloves, goggles, smock. Exposure to vapor may cause eye irritation, watering, stinging and breathing in the vapor may cause nausea and prolonged skin contact leads to irritation. Remove any clothing if they get sprayed on, wash skin thoroughly with soap and water."

Dean set the pan filled with water on the stove and turned the burner on. He then turned and asked, "hey Caleb, I have a question...you don't happen to have a kid or a practical joking neighbor do you?"

"No to both...why?"

"Never mind."


	14. Chapter 14

The time was late evening when everyone finished their meal. Sam stayed in the kitchen to clean up but stopped Caleb just before he joined Dean and his father in the living room.

"Hey Caleb," Sam said, pointing to the sink. "Have you ever had a problem with the spray head?"

Caleb directed his eyes across the room to register the object of Sam's attention. Instantly, a surprised expression then crossed his face. "Oh, yeah...sorry! Did it get you?"

Sam nodded with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, I forgot to tell you, sometimes the thing sticks. It has a mind of its own...so you should check it each time before turning on the water." Caleb then offered an apologetic smile before continuing out of the room.

_'Well, at least I know Dean didn't do this,_' Sam thought with relief - he really was not in the mood for another round of pranks - as he started to gather up the dishes from the table. That realization and the low murmur of three familiar voices in the next room lulled him into a feeling of contentment. Moments later, abrupt silence was then followed by the sound of the phone being dialed and his father then introducing himself to someone.

Once Sam set all the dishes into the basin he next inspected the nozzle and was satisfied it would not spray him if he lifted the faucet. The noise of gushing water drowned out the conversation taking place in the living room as Sam remained by the sink as it filled. He stood there in a trance, staring at the rising layer of suds.

Once the soapy water was high enough, Sam shut of the faucet, began the mundane task and glanced out through the window before him. Sam stopped what he was doing, let his hands, a plate in one and sponge in the other, float gently down to rest on the bottom and gave full attention to the stark beauty displayed before him.

Having travelled past the mid-day point hours ago, the sun currently occupied a point on the opposite side of the house, thereby allowing Sam to gaze comfortably at the view. A cloudless sky curved out over the widespread distance. The tan colored earth was peppered with large rocks and softened with sporadic green shrubs.

Sam considered it fascinating that so many different landscapes graced the planet. He then could not help think that just days ago he was surrounded by lush leafy green trees and now he was located in the driest of environments. _'I've been to every state in the lower forty-eight at least twice over...I wonder how many kids my age could say the same...I wonder how many states that guy at the rest stop saw before he was murdered..._'

Suddenly, Dean cleared his throat and Sam spun around, startled. His big brother, with arms crossed, was leaning against the entry, eyeing him with a dubious expression - for how long, Sam had no idea.

"Am I interrupting something, Ralphie?"

Sam turned back and resumed scrubbing. "No."

"So..." Dean pushed off the door and sauntered into the kitchen "...I...uh...was an ass earlier..."

Sam paused, glanced over his right shoulder and noticed his older brother was focused on the floor. He knew his brother had often avoided sharing personal feelings and felt he should not have to in this case. "Dean..." he sighed. "Don't."

Dean visibly swallowed the rest of what he started to say and looked up. "Well, we're about to go out...so, we're good, right?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Dean acknowledged Sam with an expression conveying relief then turned to head up the stairs.

Sam watched him with a slight grin, shook his head then went back to washing dishes. No sooner did he put the last clean plate back in the cabinet, when his father called out from the living room, "Sam, are you almost done in there?"

He spared one final wistful glance to the outside then one more time down at the spray head. He grabbed it up and squeezed the nozzle, held it down for a few seconds, then set it back into the holder. It was the second time he checked it and the lever still did not appear to stick. '_huh..._' He then turned and entered into the living room, faced his dad and Caleb and announced, "kitchen's done."

Dean came down the stairs just then, adorned in tan pants and a white button down shirt. "Let's do this!" He exclaimed and nodded at Sam, "at least you don't have to play dress up."

Sam jumped at the chance to test his skill at categorizing his brother like he himself had been so many times. "You're a reporter, remember Clark?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said as if the notion just dawned on him, then added, "thanks Lois."

Caleb snorted. "Ha! Looks like he got you again, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes at that but said nothing.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and stared meaningfully at Sam's torso. "If we're gonna dress the part, no way do you get to go prowling around in that shirt."

Sam looked down at himself, said, "it's my last clean one." He faced Dean and stated, "I can easily avoid being seen...it's announcing my presence to someone with a functioning nose that I'm worried about...and besides, what's wrong with this shirt?"

Dean, with difficulty, restrained a grin. "Don't get me started."

John stood up, surveying his sons with the crisp detachment of a combat officer inspecting his troops before a mission. "Alright that's enough...Sam's fine. We've got lots of ground to cover in as little time as possible."

Caleb nodded. "We should drive by the third vic's house first...last I checked it was crawling with detectives. We can figure out if and where to drop Sam off then I'll take you to the first vic's house and look around while you interview the daughter. Sound good?"

John nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

The four men stepped outside into the arid heat and hastily piled into Caleb's Explorer.

Dean groaned. "Why couldn't this have happened up in Minnesota? It's one of the hottest months of the year and we're running around losing fifty percent of our body weight through sweat."

"Here, the average temperature in July is one-hundred degrees Fahrenheit...the average precipitation is about half an inch."

From a position next to his brother, Dean shot Sam an incredulous look. "Thank you. Sam," he snapped. "I feel so much better now."

"Don't worry guys, it'll get better in here soon," said Caleb.

Due to the efficient inner workings of the relatively new car, just as he completed his sentence, the interior was noticeably more cool. Dean sighed in appreciation."...thank God your car has air conditioning."

Caleb smirked at that. "You kidding? All cars need AC down here."

They continued on in brooding silence, Caleb with his eyes on the road and the Winchesters each surveying their surroundings. The vehicle took them at first through a desolation of flat lands with scattered outcrops of rocks then gradually into the civilized world with its sidewalks, evenly spaced palm trees, street lights and businesses with large glass windows. It was a very clean town. The sun, rather pale for the lateness of the day, created longer shadows, more noticeable for beign surrounded by structures grouped more closely together.

As they made their way past the center of the town, the buildings grew more widely spaced apart. They were heading toward some hills with rows of houses up the side, layer after layer. Caleb guided the car along a winding road within the cluster and pointed out the third victim's family house, located on their left. It was a two-story similar to Caleb's house on what appeared to be a quarter acre of land and a fenced in pool in the back. In the space of time it took to travel the length of the property, two people, clearly official in their dress, were seen moving around the front yard.

"There's obviously no chance for this house to be unoccupied in the immediate future," Caleb noted.

"Is the family is still here, though?" Dean asked. "Some people get the hell out of a house where a death occurred."

"Oh, I have seen them around," Caleb replied. "I went by the place as soon as I learned of the man's death." After putting a little distance between them, Caleb had slowed the car some, awaiting word on how his friend wanted to proceed.

John, having judged that the best approach might be from the back said, "Sam might be noticed if we let him out here...since there aren't any houses behind this one, the best bet would be to go to some location set apart from the rest."

Caleb nodded in agreement and increased the vehicles speed.

After about fifteen minutes, Caleb guided the car down an isolated road and pulled off to the side, put it in park. He shifted to face inward, alternating his attention between John, Dean and Sam. "Just so you know, the family consists of the wife, one daughter, fourteen and a son, nine."

"Okay, Sam," John said. "You're up...we're losing daylight."

"Yes sir." Sam straightened and leaned over toward the handle to let himself out when he felt Dean touch his arm. Sam looked at him over his right shoulder and said, "what?"

"You sure you want to do this?" asked Dean, a slight hitch to his voice. "We don't really know how many detectives are over there."

"Dean...come on," Sam moaned.

John reached over and squeezed the back of Sam's neck in a gesture of affection. "Don't listen to Dean...you've been through plenty of practice runs, you'll be fine."

Sam pulled away from his father's grasp but looked at Dean. "I know that...I..."

"Dad, couldn't Caleb do this and the three of us work the next house."

Sam let out an exasperated sound then quickly turned, pushed the door open, and slammed it shut after jumping out. He started to run off without looking back, kicking up dust behind him.

Dean opened the window, held out a bottle of water and yelled "Sam!" and dropped his arm down in defeat when his brother didn't stop.

"Better be careful," Dean murmured, just at the edge of audibility.

John cleared his throat and faced Caleb. "Okay, I'll drive so I can let you off a ways from the next house." They both got out, jogged around the front and re-entered the car. John started the ignition and pulled back onto the road with a flourish of the wheel. "We've got about one hour to get there, interview them then come back for Sam."

"Just take a right at the end of this road and follow it for about three miles," said Caleb.

Off to his left, John could still see Sam; he apparently never slowed his pace for he was quite a distance away. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Dean intently watching after his little brother as he disappeared past an outcropping of large rocks. _'He just can't get past worrying about that kid,' _John thought. "He's got to learn sometime, Dean. Now are you gonna white knuckle it 'til we see him again or are you gonna focus on the job?"

Dean wiped all the emotion off his face, looked straight into the mirror at his father's eyes and answered, "I'm focused." He then stared back out the passenger window. "It's just...well...last time I lost sight of him, he was attacked in a rest stop bathroom."

"Holy shit!" Caleb, who had been looking out the windshield, spun around to face John and observed his friend's jaw clench, his whole body tense up. "What the hell happened?"

"Some pervert came on to him," John spat. "Nothing Sam couldn't handle."

"But for the added guilt over an innocent man's murder," Dean said. "He'll beat himself up over what happened for weeks. He may look put together on the outside but…"

Caleb's eyebrows furrowed, his face expressing curiosity. "Wait...murdered?"

"We left him unconscious...another dude had walked into the restroom, surprised at what he saw and I took Sam out, told that guy what happened and to call 911. Apparently the asshole woke up and killed him...we had no idea that piece of filth pervert was a murderer and now an innocent man is dead."

Caleb blew out a breath. "I had heard about that...and you were there? I heard they found the suspect wandering, seemingly confused...that's all that was reported anyway. 'Possibly under the influence of drugs,' they said on the news."

John glanced at his friend. "I told him not to let it get to him but Sam keeps everything that happens to him inside...no matter what we say."

"He should understand that it's not his fault," Caleb said.

"Sam is Sam," Dean shrugged with resignation.

"Thing is, Sam has a photographic memory," John said. "The kid keeps a continuous and running tally of every injustice ever done...categorically filed away. The good thing here is that lately he's been all gung-ho about hunting and focusing his energy more on training."

"Well I can help with that," Caleb said with a small smile. "Best time to work out is at four in the morning. I go to this track that stays lit. I also have access to a shooting range...it's safe and good for practicing with limited visibility."

"That reminds me...I've been meaning to get Sam his own gun."

Caleb nodded then turned to look at Dean. "That's an interesting amulet you have there."

Dean angled his head downward and grasped it with a hand. "Sam gave it to me years ago."

Caleb cringed, his attempt to get Dean's mind off of Sam unsuccessful, and tried again. "So, Dean. Tell me about yourself."

"Not much to tell...I love to hunt, I dropped out of high school and I am an atheist."

"Wow...what makes you an atheist?"

"I have my reasons," Dean stated matter-of-factly. "What about you? Tell me more about what you do."

"Well, what's interesting is that I used to work as a civilian in military security...I had access to the overstock of weaponry, munitions. But then I felt I was being scrutinized too much, rightly so, I guess, and left, and I've been hiding out here ever since. Thanks to Uncle Sam..." _'There's that name again...damn it!_' "...I learned a great deal…how to hack into computer systems, how to disarm electronic security systems."

John stopped the car at an intersection and said, "okay, Caleb, now what?"

"Take a left at these lights, let me off just beyond that palm tree and the house is about a mile on our left, number forty-three. Give me fifteen minutes to get there."

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Catherine looked up from the television when she caught sight of her friend, Geraldine, step into the living room. "What are you all about, Gerrie?" she laughed instinctively, gesturing toward her clothes.

Her friend usually dressed conservatively in ankle length skirts and sleeveless collared shirts. When she managed to find a cheetah print mini skirt, a black halter top and black pumps she did not know.

Catherine then frowned as she decided maybe her friend was not coping as well as she thought. She opened her mouth to ask when suddenly she heard someone just outside the door.

"Those must be my visitors," Geraldine said with a wide grin.

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John was outside the residence at the appointed time when he reached out and pushed the doorbell. Dean stood behind him, surveying their surroundings. Moments later an eye appeared as the door was cracked open an inch.

"Can I help you?"

John spoke up. "Yes, I am Jason Tyler and my colleague, Stephen Perry. We called earlier asking to meet with Geraldine."

The woman behind the door scrutinized the two men standing there then undid the chain lock and opened the door wider.

"I'm Geraldine...come in quickly." She motioned for them to enter and added, "I don't want to let out the AC."

Dean stepped inside first. The woman before them appeared to be in her late twenties, with a thin body dressed in the most seductive clothes he had seen on a female in person. Her face, under a thatch of short auburn hair, was far from unattractive. "Thank you. We won't take much of your time."

The woman smiled at his polite acknowledgement and scrutinized Dean with lowered eyelids. He got a sense she was irrationally crafty and sly. _'This is definitely a woman to be dealt with cautiously,_' he thought.

Dean stepped even further in to allow John to enter behind him and shut the door firmly.

"We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice," John said with a smile.

Geraldine waved a hand. "Poof! My biggest concern today was finding a matching pair of shoes. It's no trouble really."

John nodded. A rapid scan revealed a non-descript, dimly lit entry way. She led them from the hall which opened up right into a living room and said, "have a seat."

Geraldine sat across from them and nodded toward another woman sitting on a chair. "This is my friend, Catherine," she said. "She is here to comfort me in my time of need."

The other woman had dark hair pulled back into a simple pony tail, a simple cotton sleeveless shirt and denim skirt completed the picture. "Hi," she smiled slightly.

After Dean and John seated themselves on the other sofa, they gazed past the two women. A wide entrance revealed what some would consider a dining room. It was converted into a sort of museum of erotic art on the walls, statues, and artifacts.

Geraldine followed Dean's gaze. "My father's private interest. It was his pride but he never allowed anyone to view his collection, only close friends and family. By any chance, have either of you studied the philosophy of aesthetics?"

"No, not really," John admitted with a frown.

Dean interrupted. "Let me start by saying we're sorry for your loss. Now then, we're investigating the death of your father and hope our questions might shed some light on his passing. We'll start with a broad question...had you noticed anything strange recently?"

"Well, since father died, there's been all sorts of visitors and special occasions."

John and Dean shared a look. "Related specifically to him...did he seem more tired, for instance, or say anything unusual?" Dean elaborated.

"I can tell you are both men who have 'been around town' so the answer would be no...for my father, nothing really can be said to be unusual."

"How about anything unusual for _him_?"

Geraldine tilted her head to ponder the inquiry for a moment. "Well...what do you think of what I call Adam," she gestured specifically toward a marble statue depicting a highly aroused pose. "He recently acquired it. He never bought a statue before."

Everyone present simultaneously scrutinized the object of discussion. Catherine grimaced while John searched for something to say.

Dean was the first to find his voice, his eyebrows lifted as he stated, "I'd say he's simply asserting his love for the human body and it's...capabilities."

John cleared his throat, "did your father ever mention anyone wanted to hurt him?"

Geraldine narrowed her eyes and looked at John. "Back to business then?" She then faced Dean and offered him a kind expression. "No. I was already asked that but was told later they found no signs of poison, or any kind of foul play."

Dean added, "Geraldine, has there been anyone new in your father's life?"

"You may call me Gerrie," she said. "Well, actually, yes there was. He started dating a woman he met at a grocery store."

"Do you have her name?"

Geraldine offered merely a sidelong glance toward Dean. "How much do you want this information?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is if I do a favor for you, then you must do a favor for me."

Dean caught a glimpse of his father, silent during this dialogue, with his eyes narrowed, glaring straight ahead before asking, "really. What did you have in mind?"

"I am a photographer and I believe you...Stephen, right?..." she looked at Dean and he nodded "...would be a perfect subject for an exciting bold new project I am undertaking. My work is scheduled to be displayed next month but I feel it's missing something. If we are agreed, I could take some test shots. There's a bedroom close by where you may disrobe while I prepare my equipment."

"Umm..." Dean said. He glanced over at Catherine who sat still with a puzzled look on her face.

John stiffened. "I'm sorry _Ms. Vance. _I appreciate art just as much as the next crackpot. However, I don't think posing for nude photography equates with simply wanting a name."

Geraldine tossed her head, uttered an angry sound, then said, "Well, then of course there is no more to be said." She raised her arm toward the hall, gesturing for them to leave immediately.

The two men rose up and John handed Catherine a business card. "Thank you for your time," John said coldly then turned, marched toward the door and followed Dean out.

Once settled inside the car, John started the engine. He looked back toward the victim's house, started to speak but thought better of it.

Dean made an airy gesture. "Go ahead, Dad...say what's on your mind."

Suddenly the phone rang. Dean gave a questioning look and John reached in his pocket, pulled it out and pushed the speaker button.

"Hello?"

"_Hi, is this Jason?"_

_"_Yes...who's this?"

_"This is Catherine...Gerrie's friend..you were just here."_

_"_Right, just didn't recognize your voice."

_"That's okay. I was around when Gerrie's dad brought his girlfriend by...I met her and just wanted to tell you I have the information you wanted about her._"

"Go on...what's her name?"

_"It's Susan Wellington. Oh, and I can tell you where she lives."_

_"_That would be great."

_"Do you have a pen?"_

"No...but I have a good memory."

_"Okay, she lives at 198 Ecce Way here in town. Oh and sorry about Gerrie, she's never acted this way before."_

"Don't worry about it. Thanks for your help."

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Geraldine, standing just outside the bathroom door, smiled knowingly after listening to the phone conversation. She then walked to the closest bedroom, closed the door and lay down on the bed. She tilted her head back and suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream as black smoke rapidly ejected from her mouth.

The door was flung open and her friend burst through. Eyes fixed on her friend, wide with fear, Catherine cried, "Gerrie! What's wrong?"

The figure on the bed rolled onto her stomach. Her face in the pillow muffled a voice that said, "fuck off...I got the worst headache."

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Caleb loped toward his car, eager to meet back up with John and Dean. He let out an exhale, relieved to see they were sitting inside with the engine running, air-conditioning sure to be on high. He closed the final distance within a manner of seconds, yanked open the driver side door and jumped in, tossed a hex bag lightly to John which he caught. "Looks like we don't need further proof," Caleb said.

"You are a master," Dean said. "We didn't hear a sound...nobody suspected a thing. Oh and by the way, you might want to give an anonymous tip to the local psych ward to keep some space available...that chick is buckets of crazy."

"She never stood out before that I know of," Caleb said. "Her father's death must have made her snap. I heard some of your interview and had to get out of there before I gave myself away due to uncontrolled laughter. Were you really thinking of stripping?"

"I don't know..."

"Thank God you had your daddy there to protect you," Caleb said with a wink to John.

John smiled briefly. "Well, in any case, our friendly neighborhood sex-addict artist mentioned her father became involved with a woman, met her a couple of weeks before he died," John said. "So slight change of plans...Dean, you and I will check out this new information."

Dean made eye contact with John, his jaw dropped slightly. "You consider her 'I'll only give you what you want by nefarious means' information reliable?"

"It seems like a solid lead to me...plus her friend supported the story."

"Shouldn't we wait for Sammy?"

"Dean, Sam'll be fine. If this woman is a witch, we have a responsibility to stop her now."

"So what are we doing?" Caleb asked.

"Caleb, would you take us back to your house so we can pick up my car and can you wait for Sam?"

"From what I've seen of Sam, he won't like it."

John shrugged his shoulders. "You're scared of a fifteen year old boy? Look, if he gets upset, just show him the weapons you have for sale and tell him I said he can pick out a gun."


	15. Chapter 15

Sam gently nudged open another door then peeked past it. The furniture and décor indicated adults had slept within but above all else, a flavor of stillness pervaded throughout from one dim corner to the next. Time seemed to stand still in the space before him; it was eerie, the air of death lingered and masterfully invaded as gentle tendrils grasping deep down into his chest making it difficult to breathe.

Sam knew he had arrived at the right bedroom. However, for the first time since his confrontation with Amy's monster mother, a level of uncertainty rendered him immobile - but only briefly.

With deliberate speed Sam imagined Dean's voice scolding him - _'you are an intruder...you're supposed to feel unwelcome, dumbass'_ - and so the paralysis was broken. Sam squared his shoulders and shook off any remaining misgivings then emphatically stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

First, a cursory glance around whereupon, without a sound, he strode to the opposite side of the victim's bed, got down on his knees and reached in between the box spring and the mattress. After a few seconds of feeling around, his fingers touched something he knew could only be a hex bag.

_'Ha!_' A small grin lit up Sam's face as he thought, '_hey Dad, what do you think of me now? Mission accomplished...now it's you who's gonna make _me_ wait...'_

Sam secured the object in his hand and just as he was starting to pull it out, detected a slight tremor from below. _'What was that?' _He jerked his head up, stiffened and held his breath to listen. The floor subsequently vibrated with the distinctive sound of the front door being closed. _'Shit! The family's back!_' Then he heard a female voice replying affirmatively to some question and suddenly there was no mistaking the sound of feet pounding on the stairs and up the hall to where he was!

In a single movement, Sam yanked his arm out from the bed and scuttled around the side table then pulled his legs in tightly just when he heard what sounded like two young boys - _'must be the son and a friend'_ - chatting animatedly as they passed by and entered into the room across the hall. _'Well, at least I don't think anyone will actually come in here,'_ he reasoned.

Sam relaxed his legs a little, looked down to his hand which unclenched to reveal he was, in fact, holding a hex bag. He tucked it into his pocket whereby his directive now became the rendezvous with his dad and brother. Sam then realized the boys had not closed their door and if he were to leave the way he came, there would be a great chance he would be seen.

After a moment, Sam contemplated jumping out a window to freedom and took a quick look over the sill. A neighbor's house was very close by from this vantage point and nothing but open space in between. With the risk of being spotted coupled with the possibility of a broken leg, he immediately called off that idea.

Sam shut his eyes, huffed out a breath and leaned his head against the wall. However he detested the idea of his delayed return, he decided it would be best to bide his time and wait for another opportunity of escape to present itself.

Though sitting composed, his mind was like a ship tossing on a turbulent sea. To reassure himself this was not his fault, the young Winchester went over the steps taken that brought him up to this point, because everything had gone smoothly.

_The heat was so oppressive…no one was out of their dwellings and he had reached the target house unobserved. He jumped over the fence and crept to the back door...was prepared to pick the lock but found it was not required._

_Once inside, murmured conversation of the officers could be heard coming from what seemed to be one of the front rooms. Pausing in the kitchen, he did not even try to decipher what was being said, rather, he just strained to hear for any abrupt pauses in their speech which would indicate his presence was detected. Looking around, he was thankful the house was not designed with an open floor plan and simultaneously decided it was the nicest home he had ever broken into._

_Cautiously making his way to the stairs...having to stop only once at the sound of approaching footsteps...he willed himself to be invisible. However, no one came near and a second later he deemed it safe to continue up._

_The second floor was less of a challenge for it was entirely carpeted. A long hallway was laid out before him, dim for each door was closed. He silently strode from room to room, praying for floors and doors that would not creak._

'_And here I am,' _Sam concluded with a grimace_. 'I should have guessed I had it too easy._' Eyes still closed, he picked up on the fact that the boys were engrossed in whatever activity they were playing at and it seemed they would be there for a while.

Sitting still in the air-conditioning, the next thing Sam registered was being uncomfortably chilled with his sweaty shirt clinging to him. Miserable and bitter at his plight, Sam was inclined to further invade their privacy; he harbored an irrational need for some payback against a family that could not have waited five more minutes to return home.

He opened his eyes to look about. First object to search was the brushing against his left shoulder, the bedside table. Sam angled around, pulled open the drawer, peered inside and saw a pile of pictures with which to start. Without using his fingers, he placed a large stack between his palms and lifted it out. Then, with his shirt as a barrier around his fingers, he examined each photo one by one.

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"Where could he be," Caleb ground out between clenched teeth. He scanned the surroundings once again then returned his focus toward the sun's location; he was dismayed to see it was no longer visible.

_'I can handle transient devients coming to my house at two a.m. demanding a weapon…there's a skin walker? I will take care of it…but a missing fifteen-year-old son of Winchester's...' _Caleb raised his hands_,_ palms turned up in supplication and gazed skyward through the window_ '…what did I ever do to deserve this?' _

Caleb shook his head at the rhetorical question and mentally added,_ 'John, what are you trying to do to me?Honestly, I'd rather make a demon deal to get Sam out of whatever trouble he's in than face John's wrath...and Dean's too, I'm sure.' _Caleb let escape a slight growl of frustration. _'I'll give him five more minutes before I go get him myself.'_

Caleb glanced at the dashboard clock, another five minutes had passed. "Aw, Hell," he said as he reached for the door handle then caught sight of Sam in the distance and sighed loudly in relief. He watched as the young Winchester sped toward his location…thankful to see he appeared to be fine.

"Oh thank God," Caleb said when Sam jumped into the car a minute later. Sam flashed Caleb a contrite smile but was silent; clearly registering the fact his dad and brother weren't in the car.

"Where're Dean and my dad?"

"I'll explain it to you on the way home. What took…"

"Do you have any water?"

"'Do you have any water? _Do you have any water?!_' That's what you have to say next?" Caleb threw his hands up. "I've been going out of my mind..." Caleb snapped "...and you need a drink of water."

Sam sat frozen across from him, eyes still widened. "Sorry, Caleb."

Caleb huffed, reached down to the door cup holder and grabbed the bottle that was nestled inside. "Well...at least you're back, that's what's important," he said as he tossed the bottle to Sam.

Before responding further, Sam immediately needed to quench his thirst; he removed the top and took a few deep swallows. He then set the bottle between his legs and faced his father's friend. "The family came home and, oh yeah, it turns out they have a dog…which was actually a good thing for me because it needed to be taken out for a walk and that's how I could get back out."

Caleb looked properly mollified. "Sorry to hear that...in that case I take back every bad thought I was thinking just now."

Sam offered a lopsided grin in return and said, "I'm sorry you had to worry but am glad Dad decided to take Dean somewhere then...I'd never hear the end of it."

"I can imagine." Caleb looked closely at Sam and shook his head. "You are still just a kid…I don't get they include you on hunts but at the same time worry about you so much other times."

"Yeah, it's pretty fucked up," Sam replied with a shrug. Not comfortable discussing personal matters with someone he himself did not know too well, he changed the subject. "Anyway..." Sam pulled the hex bag out of his pocket "...I found this." He held up the small square of cloth that was tied around its contents. "It was in between his mattress and box spring."

"Exactly like where I found mine. Let's get back home...we'll open them and look inside."

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John and Dean had found the address easily with Caleb's competent directions. The residential area was rather thickly settled and so they parked several yards away, in front of a house that appeared to have no one home. John turned off the engine, looked toward his son and said, "we'll stake out the place for about thirty minutes."

Dean nodded, rolled down his window and groaned when he remembered opened windows did nothing to bring relief. "It's still hotter than hell here...even with no daylight!"

John handed Dean a bottle of water and said,"here, take this" then opened his own to take a drink. Once they both were sated as best as possible, John took note of his oldest son acting nervous and he knew why. He was starting to think his plan to separate his sons for the previous part of this mission was not such a bad idea but to keep them separated for this next part could turn into a disaster.

_'Come to think of it, this was the first time they've been separated while both directly involved in a hunt,'_ John realized.

"Dean, I need you to stay sharp," John said.

Dean was fidgeting and gave voice to his uneasy behavior. "You're not worried that Sam..."

"Focus on where we are Dean," John snapped. "I mean it…not another word about Sam! Don't think I can't see it…you've been worried about him when he started acting differently since Lincoln…worried about him taking more on…I get that…but from this point on it stops, you understand me?"

Dean swallowed, "Yes sir."

But John wasn't finished. "It won't do you or him any good. I'm not saying don't watch out for him but you've got to know Sam is more than ready…what kind of future will he have as a hunter if he can't manage a simple mission? I don't know what happened in Lincoln but I'm certainly not going to question something that brought him around, doing what he's supposed to be doing in the first place. Stop putting this under a microscope...we're on a hunt now, you should know this."

John was breathing heavily when he finished his rant. He glanced at Dean once again, saw him staring at his hands resting on his legs. "I can't risk losing you or him," he added with a whisper.

Dean then raised his head and made eye contact with his father. Their expressions conveyed understanding over the truth of what was just verbalized; expressions not quite mirror images for John's contained a degree of relief over Dean's acknowledgement.

"We're good?" John asked.

Dean nodded with a small smile.

Father and son turned their attention back to the object of their focus. The woman's house remained dark throughout, even under the bright moon and stayed that way for thirty minutes more.

John turned to look at Dean. "It would appear no one is home…let's have a look inside, shall we?"

They both stepped out of the car and made their way to the back yard. Under the cover of shadows, they found the sliding glass door. And that it had been left open. They both gave each other a look of warning, an unspoken _'something's not right' _and proceeded inside, activated their flashlights. Their attention was immediately drawn to a woman's body on the kitchen floor.

They simultaneously gasped in surprise. "What the hell..." Dean whispered.

"I'll make sure all the blinds are down and turn on the lights," John said.

Now able to see better, the woman appeared to have been in her mid-twenties with blonde hair and pajamas on. They did not need to touch her to know she was very cold and stiff.

"She's been gone for several hours but not long enough for anyone to report her missing obviously," John said.

Dean's face puckered as he scrutinized her more. "Look, she's holding a knife, but she couldn't have killed herself…not like that…could she?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't think she did. However, on that note, if this is the witch, how is it she had the mojo to kill three men and couldn't defend herself?"

"Unless she pissed off some other witch."

"I don't know…I would think another witch would be more creative."

"Unless _whoever_ is trying to make it look like an ordinary murder...yet 'another cut and dry cold case' for the authorities."

"Here," John said, handing over a pair of gloves. "I got these from the hospital...put them on and we'll search the place." They opened all the cabinets and drawers. Except for the dead body there was nothing suspicious.

Some of the light in the kitchen traveled into the living room where they combed through next and continued to find only normal household items; all the books were mainstream titles.

"I found nothing," Dean announced after twenty minutes of searching.

"Shades of Lincoln," John murmured. "I'm not going to accept the end of this case so easily, witches are not as easily determined as kitsune are."

"Hunting the kitsune didn't make our highlights reel," Dean added before quickly running up the stairs. He poked around the bathroom the the bedrooms.

On her nightstand was a picture of her next to a boy. It was black and white and on closer look his breath caught. He grabbed it up, returned to his father and showed it to him. "Kinda looks like Sammy."


	16. Chapter 16

It was near closing time at the local library; the old building was deserted but for two beings.

After returning from the restroom, a young man who looked no older than eighteen with reddish brown hair, a thin face covered in freckles and thick glasses that kept sliding down his nose, sat down with a sigh and resumed a hunched over position over one of the three opened books scattered about his desk.

The librarian lifted her head then noticing him, as if for the first time, her lips curved up. She then rose and quietly glided over to his location. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" she breathed into his ear.

With a startled gasp, the man whipped his head around to see who unexpectedly addressed him. He pushed his glasses back into place before bloodshot eyes and his vision focused on a young woman with dark brown hair down her back - '_wasn't her hair just up before?_' - and dressed in a non-descript cream colored blouse with several buttons undone and a black below the knee skirt. "Sorry?" he stammered.

"What's your name?" the librarian asked in a sultry voice, with a finger slowly twirling a lock of her hair.

"Uh…it's Rick."

The woman seductively blinked a couple of times and flashed a wide smile. "You look like you need a break, Rick…I can help."

"Well…uh…" Rick shook his head to break the trance he was finding himself in "…I have a report due…tomorrow."

Suddenly the entry door flew open with a resounding bang. The librarian coolly rotated her head to face the individual who stepped inside, glaring at the scene before him.

"Ian, what the hell do you want?" she snarled.

"Meg, we need to talk…again," he replied between clenched teeth then spun around and left.

"A man of few words," the Meg muttered as she looked down to the shaken college student. "Don't go anywhere," she commanded.

To keep away from the occasional passers-by, Ian had stopped several yards past the front corner of the library's yellow stucco exterior when Meg caught up to him. Back still turned, he said, "I thought I told you to stop toying with them. I let you off last time we met and for what? You said you'd take care of business."

"It's not my fault...I was sure they'd have Sam go with them...since he wasn't there I just had some innocent fun. No harm done. Give me a couple more days…I know what their next move is…Sam likes libraries, as a librarian I can get close."

"What is it about these people? Why do we have to be so careful?" Ian spun around to face her, eyebrows furrowed in barely self-contained rage. "WHY!?"

Meg took a step back. "Just give me a couple more days," she persisted. "I _will_ get what Ruby needs."

Ian held a hand out and said, "only if you give me the receiver to the bug you planted. I am not going back to Azazel empty handed…I need something concrete to report."

Meg reached into her shirt pocket, took out the device and placed it in his hand. "Fine...don't need it now anyway."

Without another word, Ian walked to the farthest end of the building and vanished.

"Fuck!" Meg hurried to her car. In less than a minute, she popped open the trunk and reached around the dead body of her last possession. When her hand found the straps of the purse she wanted, she yanked it out then shouldered it while simultaneously slamming the trunk closed.

Meg then quietly re-entered the library, gently locking the door behind her.

The college student, having resumed his studying, did not see her come in. He never saw Meg take out a knife and goblet from her bag and approach him with her black eyes and a fierce expression. Before he could respond, his throat was slashed. Once again, Meg held this vessel to collect his blood as he slowly died, trembling and silently gasping.

Into the goblet she spoke pausing every so often. "...not yet...I understand and I'm sorry…but it's an emergency. Ian snapped...I know he's going to fuck everything up; his methods are brutal…thank you."

Meanwhile, Ian had travelled with demonic speed to a condemned restaurant, boarded up years ago, well beyond the glitz and buzz of crowds along the strip. Once inside, he turned on the one working lamp and simply sat himself down to wait.

It was not more than fifteen minutes before the main door was pushed open again and a man entered. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties with shoulder length black hair tied back in a bandana and arms covered in colorful tattoos. He was closely followed by three other men similarly styled, all sporting stern faces in varying degrees.

Ian looked placidly at each as they proceeded to make their way toward him. The black haired man, who called himself Jason, pulled out the chair directly across from Ian and asked, "may I?" Ian acknowledged him with a slight nod.

"Not that I mind being back in Vegas but what's this about?" Jason asked.

"Meg..."

One, known as Anthony, standing just beyond Jason's left shoulder, smirked. "Aw, shit...what did she do now?"

In the blink of an eye, Ian tilted his head to the right and Anthony was flung across the room, crashing into two tables and three chairs, his borrowed body only stopping once it hit the far wall then, stunned, slid to the floor.

"Nobody fucking speaks about Meg but me," Ian snarled at the prone form. With a contrite expression, Anthony rose up and brushed himself off.

Ian turned his eyes back to Jason. "I don't have the patience for her shit...I don't know if she'll ever change."

"Sorry but, I don't think I got the whole picture," Jason replied.

"None of us do...all I know is that there's this family that Azazel has..."

Jason visibly swallowed. "Azazel?! Are you sure we should get involved?"

"Azazel brought me in on this...a simple job, first given to Meg but she's taken it to a whole new level. Something that could take five minutes to get and she's now into day three...so here I am to oversee and I expect to be successful."

"What's the job? If it's so easy, why'd you call us?" another of the group meekly questioned.

"Orders are to grab this brat and make him jizz into a cup, without revealing demon involvement...that's all I'm told," Ian replied. His expression then became one of fierce rage. "But it's not that...not anymore. The way Meg acts around this kid? and how Azazel talks about him and his family? It's like they value them...it's just not right! And now all I want to do is to smash everything...do as much damage as possible starting with this kid."

Jason smiled evilly. "Well, it has been a while since we worked together. I miss those days."

"So I'm gonna do the job my way..." Ian glanced at each before him "...but something for everyone if you help me...keep this to look like a human thing and Azazel will never know."

They all nodded with smiles for the future then Ian slammed his fist on the table. "Get Sam Winchester! I don't care how..." he opened his hand which contained a small metal device and pushed it toward Jason "...and use this. It's a beacon to them and whatever they talk about in their car. Follow Sam, figure out how to get the little whelp alone and bring him directly to me here."

Suddenly four heads shot back to release black smoke from their mouths. As soon as Jason and the others launched back out into the world, Ian sneered. "I'll show Meg what it means to be a demon."

Two of the four bodies scattered around the floor started to squirm and moan with pain, their faces showing bewildered expressions.

Ian glanced down at them and said, "welcome to my world. Stay a while."

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During the car ride back to his house, Caleb had managed to update Sam, who had listened without saying a word, on the events he had missed. Passing through his front door, with Sam close at his heels, Caleb could not hold back a small sigh of relief, grateful to be home.

Sam, on the other hand, uttered a groan; the first sound he made for some time. Caleb looked back at him and grinned, deciding the fifteen year olds quietude was partly due to being uncomfortable in sweaty clothes.

Caleb nodded toward the stairs. "Don't worry, Dean and your dad should be back soon. Now go ahead…the bathroom's all yours if you want to take a shower."

Sam appreciated Caleb's perception but voiced an added sticking point. "I don't have any clean clothes…"

"Say no more…you'll find the washer and dryer just up the hall and I'll leave some of my clothes for when you come out."

"Thanks," Sam muttered then bound away taking two steps at a time. Ten minutes later, Sam was well into his shower.

Caleb sat at his kitchen table, alone with the lights kept dim and his mind was preoccupied with the hunt, primarily trying to grasp the realization that a witch was wreaking hell in his town. Eventually, he let the whirring sound of the washing machine hypnotize him while absently poking at the objects found inside both hex bags.

Caleb heard a creak past the living room and quickly looked up to see Sam as he stepped off the last stair and strode toward him. '_Ah, the awkward years…I really don't miss them,_' Caleb thought as he struggled not to laugh; with hair still wet from the shower, Sam appeared childlike but his 'taller than most full grown men' height was more pronounced in the ill-fitting borrowed clothes; the sweatpants hardly reached above his ankles.

"Thanks again for the clothes," Sam said while seating himself at the opposite end of the table. His polite attempt did nothing to mask his distress at finding it was still just the two of them in the house.

In any case, Caleb appreciated how Sam tried to keep his troubled thoughts undercover. John was his friend and now that he was getting to know his sons Caleb felt he could be friends with them too. Wanting to see to the young man's needs was beyond any sort of obligation. "Not at all…are you hungry?"

Sam shook his head and stared off in the direction of the front door. "No, I'm okay, thanks."

"How about you turn in then? I heard John wants you boys up early to run or train or some shit like that."

"No, I'll wait."

What is it you do for training, anyway?"

"Well…uh, just some sparring mostly, and tracking, and other stuff." Sam's eyes didn't leave the door during his half-hearted reply.

"It's obviously paying off…John told me what happened at the Kansas City rest stop."

Sam glared at Caleb and said, "yeah, to Dad and Dean…to them it's all wonderful."

"And to you?"

In a strained whisper, Sam replied, "if it's alright with you, I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough." Caleb got up and strode toward the refrigerator. "I know you don't know me very well."

Sam suddenly felt bad for someone who has been nothing but kind to him and was a good friend of his father's. On closer scrutiny, Sam determined Caleb looked lonely, the realization he did live alone just now hitting him. With one corner of his mouth twitched up, he said, "I could use that beer."

Caleb automatically whirled about to face Sam. "Wait, I thought you didn't drink beer…you're still just a kid"

"You keep saying that…remember when you thought I was Dean at first?"

"Remember when I said I was just kidding? And besides, he's still just a kid too." Caleb gave Sam a long look and sighed in resignation. "Well alright. I started at thirteen and look at me..." he stood in the middle of the room arms spread out "...I'm the picture of health."

Sam chuckled while Caleb, whose back was now turned, bent into the refrigerator. "Thirteen? I had my first beer when I was nine," Sam said. "I don't tell Dean everything."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll tell Dad."

"Smart ass," Caleb grumbled. He plunked one of the brown bottles in front of Sam and sat, snapping the lid of his own. "You know, I can tell that sometimes you wish you were the big brother."

Sam frowned and twisted off the cap with more force than necessary. "You don't know me that well," he muttered before taking a couple of swallows then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Caleb took a sip himself then said, "I can tell you're worried about him…he's the same way about you, could see that earlier. You should have seen his face when you took off running."

Sam shrugged, raised his beer once again. "I want Dean to stop thinking of me as a kid."

"Just give it time Sam, give it a few more years."

Sam laughed without mirth. "Yeah, well...it may take more than a few years. I guess it's 'cause we're all each other's got. Dad made sure of that. Dad has done so much to set us apart and it feels like every time we come to a new town, I am an alien on another planet...or like I am just waking up after a hundred years and the world has gone on fine without us."

"Do you always get so melancholy when you drink?"

"I don't know..." Sam lifted his bottle up and swallowed once again "...actually, I feel good…we are dealing with a witch..."

"How is that good?"

"...because I was right."

"You know, John said he was hoping you were."

"Really? He wouldn't talk about it with me," Sam said, eyes turned down but not before Caleb caught them flash with anger.

"I'm sure he has his reasons." In an attempt to lighten the mood, Caleb added, "now we have to find the damn creature. God, I'm with Dean...I really hate witches."

Sam was silent for a moment, consuming more of his beer, then asked, "Caleb, have you ever been to college?"

"Where'd that come from?"

Sam merely shrugged.

"That's a story for another time. Suffice it to say, I got a hands on education in security and here I am."

"Do you think sometime you could teach me how to bypass security alarms?"

"Well, of course, once the hunt is over and if you guys stay on for a while. They're all pretty much the same." Caleb took another swig of his beer then added, "I can also show you what I have for guns…your dad mentioned he was interested in getting a new one...all the good choices are down in the basement."

"You have a basement here? I thought houses in this part of the country didn't have basements."

"It's true in a lot of cases, however there are some homes that are customized."

Sam took another drink, slapped down his nearly empty bottle and sighed. "I'd rather have a dog...always wanted a dog...wish I could have seen what kind that family had."

Caleb's eyebrows shot up. "Are you drunk?"

"No. I don't know why I just said that…maybe I am just a little buzzed."

"I thought you said you drank beer before."

"Well, yes and no. I said 'I had my first beer when I was nine'."

"…and?"

"One sip and I spat it all out. Never wanted it since until recently but this is the first time I've been with someone other than Dad and Dean for a long time."

"I'm cutting you off right now," Caleb said as he reached across the table and grabbed Sam's bottle.

Suddenly the washer buzzed and Sam got up, disappeared down the hall to transfer the wet clothes into the dryer. In that space of time the deep rumble of the Impala's approached coupled with headlights appearing through the window. Caleb got up and walked over to open front door but not before it was being pounded on by Dean who wanted in before the sound of the car's engine cut. Caleb let out a sigh when Dean's voice, muffled by the barrier, shouted, "you had better be in there Sammy or I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Caleb hurried to close the distance, threw open the door startling Dean with his arm up, hand clenched ready for another round of banging.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, having rushed into the living room upon hearing the commotion. "What the hell? Do you want to wake the neighbors?"

Dean focused on Sam, covertly looking him up and down, then with a sheepish grin turned to Caleb and said, "sorry."

John had since approached and they both pushed past Caleb who then locked the door behind them. "All went well, I see," John stated after he did his own assessment of his younger son. Caleb looked up to find himself the subject of John and Dean's attention.

From behind Dean and John, Sam's expression soured which did not escape the fellow hunter's attention. Caleb smiled easily, "of course. No problems to report."

"Dad, I found a hex bag in…" Sam began.

"I am sure Caleb can fill me in." John interrupted then glanced at his watch. "It's twenty-one hundred…we'll talk later…you boys get cleaned up and go to bed."

"Yes sir," Dean said.

"Don't you want to see it?" Sam cried.

"I don't need to right now."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said and grabbed his brother by the wrist to get him to go with him up the stairs.

Sam pulled back. "Wait! Can't you at least tell me what you found out at that house?"

John glared at Sam through narrowed eyes. "There's to be no discussion now. You boys are to turn in, start fresh start in the morning," he snapped. John trembled with emotion as he watched his sons march up the stairs - one disappearing into the bedroom, the other into the bathroom.

He turned to Caleb and said, "we have a lot to talk about."

Caleb had witnessed the entire exchange and squeezed John's shoulder in sympathy. "But first you look like you could use a drink…I know just the place."

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Lying on his bed with arms across his chest, staring at the ceiling, Sam heard the front door slam then Caleb's car start and drive away. A minute later, Dean came in drying his still damp face with a towel.

Sam turned his head, making eye contact with Dean. "So how was your day?" they asked in unison. The brothers both shared a quick smile – talking at the same time never stopped being amusing - as Dean made his way to his bed.

"You first," said Dean. With his back turned to Sam as he rummaged through his duffel bag, he added, "must get out of these clothes."

"I found a hex bag in the victim's bed, just like the one Caleb found."

"Well Sammy, I must say, looks like you pulled it off without me…just like I said you could."

"Ha ha…very funny. Getting in to the house was no problem…didn't even have to pick the lock, back door was open."

Dean turned to face Sam full on. "That's the way that woman's house was for us too. Huh."

Sam raised himself up on his elbows. "You think that's something?"

"I dunno."

"Dean, what did you find?"

"Besides a dead woman?"

"What!" Sam shot up and sat on the edge of his bed while Dean lowered himself on to his. "Do you think she could be the witch?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, expression perplexed.

"Caleb told me the daughter said her dad recently met this woman, if it's the same one."

"That is something we have to find out; we found a picture she had of herself."

"That's all?" Sam held out his hand. "Can I see it?"

Dean shook his head. "Dad kept it...looked to be from the early 1900s...not exactly a smoking gun but a good piece of evidence. It was worth the sacrifice I made to get it."

Sam tried not to laugh. "What?"

"At our interview, the vic's daughter...ooh she was hot...she had this red hair..."

"Dean!"

Dean cleared his throat. "Let's just say she wouldn't give us any information until she had her way with me first."

"That's not what Caleb said."

"Well, he wasn't there exactly."

"Right…Dad let you sleep with this woman for a piece of valuable information."

Dean sighed, "sometimes you gotta take one for the team."

"Bullshit."

Dean's smile widened. "You're right…I was just messin' with ya…but she did want me. You should've seen Dad...he was all angry and shit, made us leave without any useful info..."

"I feel your pain…God forbid Dad should stand between you and another conquest," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean sobered up. "I think it would have been the other way around" then he shrugged, woman forgotten "well anyway, fortunately this other chick that was there called us with it. Dad and I went to the woman's house and found her lying dead on the kitchen floor…likely murdered hours ago. We searched the place but came up empty except for that picture."

"Wait, you really didn't find anything else?"

"We looked everywhere."

Sam stood up. "I want to go and check out the house."

"No," Dean said as he stood up as well and turned back to resume searching for clean clothes in his duffel.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, doesn't it bother you that dad uses us? We're supposed to participate in hunts but then 'be in bed by nine'?"

"Shut up Sam. You think just 'coz you were able to break into a house and find a hex bag you're ready for anything?"

"You think I don't know what I'm doing."

Dean whirled around. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…I never said that. You know what you're problem is? You take everything too personally. You don't laugh…"

"I laugh."

"…enough…you need more laughter in your life, the best cure for stress."

"So you've said before…"

"And I'll keep saying it 'til the message is fully planted in that freaky head of yours."

Sam circled around his bed and started for the door.

Dean took a step forward. "Where are you going?"

"I did our laundry, it should be dry now. I am getting some clothes, I'm gonna get dressed and go to that house before someone finds the body."

"I told you...Dad already checked everywhere and didn't find anything."

"I heard what you said. You said he didn't find anything, you didn't say there was nothing there…I'm going myself, with or without you."

"You're just mad coz dad ditched us again."

"You're right, I am...but I also want to check for something."

"What is it?"

"I'm not saying until I find out for myself."

Dean took another step forward. "I said 'no'."

"I don't take orders from you Dean and I don't need your approval...I'm going, with or without you."

"Yeah, where will you go genius? You don't know the address."

"Caleb told me." Sam said as he started to walk through the bedroom door.

Dean threw up his hands. "Fine! I'll go with you! Goddammit...Dad is gonna kill me."

Sam whirled around, his face expressing relief. "C'mon," Sam scoffed. "Dad hardly ever yells at you...I'll make sure I take all the blame."

"Let me get changed first...and I can't think on an empty stomach...we're gonna stop for some burgers on the way...bacon cheese with extra onions."

Sam shook his head in resignation.

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When Caleb slowed to make the final turn into the parking lot, John was pulled out of his all consuming thoughts and focused for the first time on his surroundings. A modern looking structure stood before them that was overly lit up in neon signs and surrounded by at least fifty cars. Music filtered its way to their ears.

John turned to look at Caleb, frowning. "What is this place?"

"A place where you can forget your problems for a while.

John turned to Caleb. "I can see I won't be able to talk without yelling, let alone think."

"That's the idea, at least for a little while. It's called therapy…come on, let's go."

"Wait, Caleb."

"What is it?" Caleb asked, his expression becoming serious.

"I found a body at that house me and Dean searched and I am trying not to lose it here..." John looked directly into Caleb's eyes "...but as of now, my boys are off this case."

"Okay...tell me what's going on."

"I have to ask you…do you remember I told you were hunting a kitsune and the monster was found dead in her house, stabbed and I asked you if you knew of any other hunters in Lincoln?"

Caleb tilted his head, thinking back. "Yeah, and I said I didn't."

"Is there anyone else you spoke to about the strange deaths here?"

"No, just you. What's all this about? Is that what you think is happening here?"

"Honestly? I don't know." John paused for a moment, faced forward and continued in a subdued voice, "have you ever sat alone in your hotel, in the dark, late at night, when the bathroom door unexpectedly moves wider? That's the feeling I am having now…there's something going on here, something sinister beyond what we're hunting."

"I don't know what to say...maybe something will make sense in the morning." Caleb nodded his head toward the building. "Let's just go in for a bit."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think I should just now."

"It won't be too long...just enough to unwind, get something to eat before going back."

"Fine," grumbled John as he reached for the door, got out and walked alongside Caleb. "Then we go shopping…we need to get some real food, no offense. My boys have eaten crap these last few days."

"No offense taken. You know I prefer honesty but I thought your boys were gonna leave."

John reached up and squeezed Caleb's shoulder with the spirit of levity. "They are, we'll eat a good breakfast then the rest will go to you and me."


	17. Chapter 17

The lack of discourse was disheartening and Sam found himself in a gloomy frame of mind. He spared a quick glance at his brother and surmised Dean was partly tired plus hungry but mostly vexed at being manipulated into changing his mind about going back to the woman's house. Fortunately, one problem was able to soon be remedied.

And so Dean drove in search of food, haphazardly weaving around the slower cars and keeping his focus on not careening off the road. Sam had lifted a hand onto the dashboard a few times but did not complain; he knew to give his big brother a wide berth when he acted like this.

It did not take long before they came upon the outskirts of town and located a suitable restaurant. Sam and Dean took turns stating their order into the drive-thru speaker then Dean hastily pulled up to the window. His only acknowledgement of the teenaged employee was to exchange money for the value meals.

Now Dean took his time, cruising carefully along the artificially lit streets with one hand on the wheel while the other held a cheeseburger. The nineteen year old made it appear as though he was otherwise preoccupied by eating and driving. Sam pressed his lips together when he noticed how fast his brother was eating; each time they passed under a streetlight, he could see Dean's burger had shrunk another bite.

Navigating Henderson during the day was quite a contrast when doing the same at night; there were many more pedestrians around. Sam wanted to say, _'looks like this is the time to come out of the woodwork,'_ but he kept the thought to himself, only snorted softly at it.

Dean heard it and gawked at him, one eyebrow raised. Though Dean still had not spoken, this signaled to Sam that his brother was making his way out of the pit of annoyance - he just did not know it would happen simply because of several bites of food; Dean was still highly unpredictable.

After several minutes they were once again stopped at a red-light and Dean looked at his brother appraisingly. "So…what do you think of Caleb?"

Sam nearly dropped his drink at the unexpected sound of Dean's voice and whipped his head toward the driver's side. He simultaneously caught sight of the light turning green in his peripheral vision and Dean quickly returned to facing forward, his countenance hidden in the shadows. Sam only had Dean's tone of voice to go on and he seemed back to being in good spirits.

Sam suddenly felt jealousy enhanced with a twinge of disorientation at his big brother's capacity for forgiveness. He was not ready to reciprocate; he slumped in his seat and retorted, "he's one of the few people Dad trusts to be alone with us…what do you think?"

"Don't have one of your episodes, 'kay?" Dean growled while viciously crumpling up his burger wrapper and throwing it in the back. "Forget Dad…I'm just asking what _you_ think of him."

"I was with him, what…half an hour maybe?" Sam shrugged. "We didn't really have time to talk before you and Dad came back…but he's nice. Make sure Dad doesn't punch him in the face just for talking to me."

Dean shot his brother a puzzled look then understanding dawned on him as he recalled that incident Sam was referring to.

'_His dad and brother were at it _again_. They had yet another fight over leaving so Sam was ordered to the motel office to check out while he and their dad finished packing the car. Suddenly shouting, loud enough to cross the parking lot, could be heard coming from where Sam had just entered a minute earlier. His dad didn't hesitate to rush right over and barge through the entrance. Just as his dad disappeared past the door, there was more yelling and it was now his father's voice. He hurried over to see what was going on, opening the door to a scene where the manager was lying unconscious in a corner. His dad stormed past him, back outside while Sammy's eyes met his and mirrored the shock he felt.'_

"You're bringing that up again? It was over two months ago and was just one time…plus you _know_ Dad thought he had it coming to him…"

"I tried to tell Dad he wasn't yelling at me."

Dean, having not been present for the entire situation, shrugged.

Sam said nothing more. He dropped his mostly eaten chicken sandwich into the bag and placed it on the floor by his feet then put his soda cup between his legs. He conveyed his discontent by crossing his arms and facing out his window just as they came upon a four-way intersection. Dean stopped the car then scanned the area with an air of uncertainty.

Sam observed that virtually identical appearing homes were laid out in each direction before them. "Are you sure you remember the way?" he asked sarcastically.

"Of course I remember, ya little shit," Dean replied and with a spin of the wheel to the left he brought the car back up to speed. "I was just giving you one last chance to change your mind about this…we're actually here…this is Ecce Way and coming up on your right is the house…" nodding his head directly at it as they passed alongside "…one ninety-eight."

Sam instantly followed Dean's stare and gave full attention out his window. There was not much he could make out; the house was shrouded in darkness, not a single light on anywhere.

"Okay Sam, remember to pay attention to all the turns I take…starting now," Dean said as they arrived to an intersection at the end of the street.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "I'm not an idiot, you know," he mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes.

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Camouflaged by the night sky, four plumes of black smoke swirled along a stretch of an unpopulated area in the desert. The demons simultaneously listened in on the brothers' conversation taking place within the Impala while trying to hatch a plot that would successfully allow them to kidnap Sam Winchester.

"Did he say one ninety-eight?" asked Anthony.

"That's what I thought…198 Ecce Way," replied another who called himself Christian.

Jason said, "here's what we'll do. The quickest way to figure out that location and take Sam would be as police…set up some reason to get Sam in the car and we can bring him straight to Ian."

"Genius," said Anthony with excitement, already relishing the thought of the reward Ian promised.

"But what about…" Christian began.

"Well handle everything else as it comes up. Just follow my lead," Jason commanded.

Almost appearing as one cloud, they shot ahead and flew alongside the nearest road toward town.

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Dean guided the Impala through the roads that twisted and angled away from the neighborhood population. A good half mile further, the streetlights had since disappeared and there were no longer any signs of houses as far as the eye could see.

Headlights cut through vast darkness and revealed a dirt road to the older Winchester who directed the vehicle on to it. It turned out to be a dead-end; a suitable area to park with some rather tall boulders and proximal bushes for the car to hide behind.

Shutting off the engine, Dean registered the weight of his little brother's stare and turned to face him. "So why'd you got your bitch face on for?"

"Why so careful?"

"You're joking, right?" Dean sighed at Sam's continued glare. "Because we're about to go into a house with a dead body inside."

"Can't we at least try to find somewhere a little closer?"

"We can't risk anyone reporting our car in the area," Dean replied in measured patience. "If we are seen, it won't be just evil bastards we need to worry about."

"But it's so damn hot out…

"Aw, Sammy…what? You worried your hairstyle is gonna frizz up after all the time you put into it?" Dean reached out to ruffle his hair and Sam jerked his head away to the right. "Don't worry," he chuckled, "it's a dry heat."

"Cut it out, Dean…never mind…let's just go." Sam pushed open the door, jumped out then slammed it shut and started marching forward.

Before exiting the car, Dean quickly opened the glove compartment and snatched the flashlight. He caught up to Sam after several long strides down the gently sloping hill and set the pace staying just one step ahead. With Sam flanking him, they made their way along the road bathed deep in shadows, to which their eyes adjusted with help from the faint light of the moon.

Moments later Dean groaned. "I could use an ice cold beer right about now…don't think I've felt a single breeze since we got to Nevada."

Sam gave his brother a sidelong glance. "You know Dean, I was thinking of you when I said we shouldn't park so far."

"You're just saying that to get on my good side for coming with you on this goose chase."

"No, it's the truth…hey, if we do find something, you have to do all the laundry for six months," Sam quipped.

"And if this turns out to be a colossal waste of time, you have to do it…and promise to stop fighting with Dad." Dean shook his head. "I swear, only you know how to push his buttons."

"And with you the man turns into a pile of mush."

"Shaddup." Without breaking their stride, Dean rotated slightly to shove his brother's shoulder. Sam staggered back a step then rushed forward to do the same but Dean jumped to the left and leaned out of reach.

"Hey, Dean…why didn't Dad report finding the body?"

"He has his reasons."

Sam huffed and spread his arms in frustration. "You always say that."

"Yeah, well Dad not talking ain't nothing new…I guess maybe he's still not one-hundred percent sure what to do yet…oh yeah and it depends if this person and the evil witch are one in the same. Now shut up…we'll be coming up on some houses soon."

Sam continued to follow Dean. When they came to the streets lined with homes, as rapidly as possible, they traced a path that led them back to Ecce Way. Occasionally, Dean relied on Sam to signal whether to go left or right. The boys kept off the sidewalks; they lurked along the shadows to remain hidden from people in random cars passing by or anyone who might be looking out their window.

Once they arrived at the back door of the house Dean did not hesitate and slid it open.

Suddenly an awful odor assaulted his nose as soon as Dean moved to enter. "Ugh," he moaned and pushed past Sam back outside. "The smell wasn't here before…" once again he stuck his head inside and took another shallow breath "…it's not the usual rotting corpse smell."

Sam tilted his head in and lightly inhaled. "Yeah, that's weird," Sam whispered. "Maybe it's to do with the high heat in this region?"

"I don't know…there's just something else about it I can't place. How about we go back to Caleb's…see if he has a robotic camera on wheels stashed away somewhere."

"Come on, Dean…we're here…just pull up your shirt."

Dean poked Sam in the back. "I can tell it's bothering you, too."

"No you can't because it's not."

"Liar," Dean hissed.

"Am not…I must be tougher than you I guess…so after this you can stop calling me Samantha."

"Well, I can always think of some other name."

Sam smiled despite himself. Though he would never voice it, he actually liked it when Dean picked on him - _at times_. Meanwhile, he noticed his big brother still had his nose wrinkled. "If it bothers you so much, you can keep watch outside," he said, keeping his voice low.

"No way…it's bad enough I let you talk me into this but you are not going in by yourself."

"I can take care of myself," Sam protested then turned to enter, shoulder checking his brother on the way by.

"Jeez, you're stubborn," Dean muttered and turned on his flashlight. He followed close behind with one hand directing the beam down, the other holding up his shirt over his nose.

Five steps in and the brothers stopped to look down at the body, Sam now raising his shirt to his nose as well.

"She was stabbed," Sam observed, his voice muffled.

"Wow…you think, Einstein?" Dean mocked from beneath his shirt. "Let's get out of this room before I pass out…where do you want to look first?"

"No, I want to see if there's a basement and it might be around here."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? Houses here don't have…"

"That's what I thought at first but I was talking to Caleb and it came up that he has a basement. He told me some houses do…and I thought it was worth checking out." Sam walked around the body, across the kitchen, to the far wall which was completely void of cabinets and counter space. _'This looks like a good place to start,'_ he thought.

"Yeah, well, we never saw one." Dean stayed where he was, not convinced. He watched Sam raise his arm up and started running his hand along the smooth painted surface. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I read somewhere that witches in some cases use some camouflage spell to hide things or make us think we're not seeing it."

After a few seconds, Sam suddenly halted and gasped in surprise. "I feel something, Dean…" Sam squinted his eyes and leaned in, leaving an inch between his nose and the wall, then slid his hand up and down vertically, "…it feels like a door frame but I still am not seeing it, are you?"

Without a word, Dean quickly stepped forward and joined Sam's movements. To his surprise, he did touch a hard raised edge of wood; felt but not seen. Then guided his hand six inches to the left and slightly forward; to their shock, as his fingers pushed past the camouflage it blinked out and the door came into view. Dean's jaw dropped just then. "Holy shit!"

"Looks like we found the basement," Sam stated with muted excitement.

"Yeah, looks like," Dean said, not trying to hide the awe he felt.

Sam grasped the knob but it did not turn then saw it was one with a key hole. "Did you bring it?"

Dean, still blindsided by the sudden appearance of a door, could not process what Sam was asking. His eyebrows narrowed and he gave a quick shake of his head. "Dude, what are you talking about? I usually hear that from chicks when…"

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Get your mind out of the gutter…I'm talking about the lock pick. You brought it, didn't you?"

"No…just start looking around for something."

Dean and Sam split up to opposite ends of the kitchen. They both had long since let go of their shirts once the foul odor no longer bothered them and were able to perform the searching of drawers with both hands.

"I think I found the junk drawer," Sam announced. "Shine the light here for me." Dean complied and he rummaged around; in a manner of seconds, Sam held up a large paperclip and added, "got something."

Both returned to the door and Dean watched as Sam squatted down, unfolded the paperclip and inserted it into the keyhole. In quick succession he released the lock, pulled out the clip, turned the knob then pushed the door open. Dean leaned in with the flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness and revealing wooden stairs descending down.

Sam stood, now positioned behind Dean and suddenly felt the skin on the back of his neck tingle. But he did not want Dean to think he was scared and tried to ignore it. "I was right about there being a basement…I should check it out."

Dean's mouth suddenly went dry and his jaw clenched at the role reversal; he was usually the one to lead the way. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…what's with the _'I_'?"

"It was my idea there might be a basement and I'm going in," he said and attempted to push his way past. "We should find out what's down there…it's obviously very important."

His little brother following in his footsteps to this extent brought about unpleasant feelings churning in his chest; he was not his dad. Dean blocked the door and said, "slow down tough guy…we should bring Dad in on this."

"We leave now, maybe Dad won't give us the chance to come back and look around."

Dean paused, considering. _'Sam wouldn't be wrong about that,'_ he agreed to himself but said, "right, but let's not go barging in there…let me think for a minute." Dean returned to focus once again on the stairs and caught sight of a light switch on the wall to his left.

His shoulder twisted with the motion of his free hand reaching over to flick the switch and with that, the area was illuminated. "Gross!" Dean pulled back, turned three quarters and Sam saw a look of disgust on his face; before he had a chance to react, Dean wiped his hand on the front of Sam's shirt.

Sam smacked his hand away and fixed an angry glare at his brother. "Dude!"

Dean shrugged. "There was something slimy on the wall." He then set his flashlight down, straightened up then opened his mouth to tell Sam that he should go down first.

Suddenly there was a faint pop, it seemed like it came from the second floor. Sam and Dean stilled and listened. Then another pop sounded from somewhere else then another, slightly louder, a couple of rooms away.

Dean sniffed the air as a new scent penetrated his nose. _'Smoke!'_ They shared a look, two sets of eyes wide, and Sam voiced Dean's thought, "we should go."

Suddenly a different noise, more like a sizzling sound, erupted behind them. They simultaneously whirled about, a move that caused Dean to pitch slightly to the side; he had to rapidly shift his weight to his other leg to remain vertical. Shaking his head to try and clear his increasingly fuzzy vision, he and his brother saw where the body had been now appeared as an outline of dust. "What the…" he heard Sam say, his voice making him feel as if he were underwater and Dean's frown deepened.

More popping at various locations throughout the house ensued. Sam shot Dean one more look conveying an urgent need to evacuate before the younger man started toward the back door.

Dean moaned; his head now felt as if it were floating free of his body – a body which he had a hard time getting to move. Still, he had the presence of mind to not forget his flashlight and clumsily stepped forward to retrieve it. Bending over, Dean instantly lost all sensation throughout his entire body. "Fuck! Sam, get out! Call Dad," Dean cried but, even to his ears, it was with all the coherency of a foreign language. His last feeling was one of fear for Sam's safety; his vision clouded completely and all at once he knew no more.

Sam spun around at the sound of Dean's voice, just in time to witness his big brother's eyes rolling up then his body collapsing toward the basement, tumbling down the stairs. "Dean!" He ran back to the basement door and saw Dean crashing down them. It happened so fast that Sam could only watch in horror as Dean slammed to a stop onto the floor below, his head cracking on the concrete surface.

By this time, black smoke now billowed in to the kitchen from the next room. Even though the only thing Sam understood from Dean's last words was the obscenity, his brother's tone of voice gave him a sense of what he was trying to communicate – '_get the hell out!_'; Sam had no intention of doing so just yet.

In the basement, more popping sounds combined with a thick haze and faint flickers of light meant the fire was now all around them. Dean's body was sprawled out but there were no weird angles of his arms or legs. Sam was relieved but it was short-lived for he could not get past the sound his brother's skull hitting the floor.

Certain that Dean had come in contact with a substance to cause him to shut down, Sam did his best to close the distance, careful not to touch anything, yet quickly for he knew they did not have much time. Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off his unmoving brother as he made his way down the stairs.

Sam reached Dean without incident. He crouched down next to him, placed fingers on his neck and blew out a breath upon feeling a strong pulse; he also saw no problems with his breathing and no bleeding.

Next Sam shook Dean gently so as not to move him in case he had a spinal injury but his big brother did not rouse. Sam felt around for injuries and nothing alarmed him when he passed over the spine and skull. He had to get Dean out now before they suffocated on the smoke and the only way to do that would be to carry him.

The encroaching smoke brought tears to Sam's eyes as they darted around to see how close the flames were. Coughing and choking, he observed what appeared to have been large crates, all now burning, the closest one a mere four feet away. He also happened to see shelves on the nearest wall lined with ornate vases and other objects of what looked like ingredients for spell work.

The wail of sirens, faint at first, penetrated his awareness. _'Somebody must have seen us and called the cops_,' he thought. They were definitely getting louder, coming toward his location and then Sam realized those were fire truck sirens.

Without delay, Sam hauled Dean over his shoulder and stood up, legs shaky under the added weight. It was pure adrenaline that enabled Sam, now gasping for oxygen, to carry Dean up the stairs and out into the kitchen. He was wheezing as the entire room was overrun by black smoke. Rapidly advancing flames licked at his left leg, scorching his jeans.

A quick glance to his left reminded him that the witch's body was truly gone but for an outline of dust. _'At least we're not gonna be accused of murder_,' Sam realized crazily as he burst through the fire blocking the back door and was bombarded by the intense activity from an arriving team of first responders. The closest happened to be the firefighters running around, each with their assigned roles.

Sam drew in deep breath after deep breath as he staggered out further among the commotion. The lit up scene before him was made blurry with his watering eyes. Flashing red lights were all around, flashlights held by crew were bobbing with all their racing around and neighboring homes had their lights on as well, the residents staring out their windows or stepping through their front doors.

Suddenly one of the firefighters was in his face and asked in an urgent tone, "is there anyone else in there?"

Sam shook his head and managed to gasp, "no, just us."

The fireman nodded then raised an arm and signaled. Sam did not see him approach but suddenly a paramedic dressed in dark blue scrubs stood before him. Hands were on him, pulling him and his unconscious brother further away. When a safe distance was reached, they stopped and Sam collapsed with a cry onto his knees, unable to make it any further.

He felt Dean lifted off his shoulders from someone behind him. Still panting, Sam looked up, blinking, and observed two more paramedics, each pushing a gurney with large bags on top, coming closer. One stopped in front of him and the other veered off. Dean was gently placed on top of the stretcher meant for him and instantly underwent an assessment by three medics as they crowded around him.

Scared for Dean but feeling like a large weight was pressing down, making him lack the strength to go to him, Sam began to hyperventilate; panic was creeping in more and more with each rapid breath irritating his raw throat, still somehow unable to feel like he was getting enough air. Somewhere in his mind, Sam was aware of all the activity going on around him but it was a distant buzzing and he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

An oxygen mask was placed on his face and a concerned face appeared in his line of sight. "You're okay," he said. "Take slow breaths, in through your nose." Sam complied and his condition gradually improved. After about a minute, Sam heard him ask, "do you think you can stand?" He nodded and was helped up then led the remaining distance, physically guided to sit on his stretcher.

A couple of police officers approached Sam while the medic was searching his bag for something. "Kid, you are lucky me and my partner happened to be driving by when we were" one of them said with an air of superiority.

Sam nodded dully, not taking his eyes off Dean who was still lying motionless as the personnel worked over him. One was bent forward, listening to his heart and another was securing him in a neck brace.

"What's your name?" The medic asked as he stood and did a quick once over.

"It's Sam."

"Sam? I'm Lucas…I'm going to give you a quick assessment…" he raised a stethoscope over Sam's wildly beating heart but was satisfied with its steady rhythm then auscultated his lungs, shone a small light into one eye then the next then did a quick visual inspection, all with rapid efficiency that spoke experience "…now, can you tell me about that guy you brought out…what's his name…what happened to him?"

Sam gazed over at his brother again. Dean continued to lay unmoving, his face pale and smudged with soot. Sam considered he must look as dirty before answering, "his name is Dean. He…he fell down the basement stairs, trying to grab something before getting out. I think he hit his head."

"Your brother, huh? Does he have any allergies?"

"No."

Lucas nodded then he turned, reached down into his bag and grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to Sam then asked, "are you still doing alright?"

"Yeah...thanks."

"You're welcome…I'm gonna run over there…" he nodded to the workers huddled around Dean "…tell them what you told me." Lucas looked at the officers with an uncertain expression.

"Go on," the other one said, smirking. "We'll watch him…I have a few more questions."

"Thanks, I'll see if they need my help with anything then," Lucas replied then strode away.

Right away, Sam guzzled the water which brought a huge comfort to his scorched throat. Murmurs of disbelief from a crowd of people adjacent to him filtered his way; he joined them in staring at the awful scene before him, sharing in their shock as the house seemed to burn with more intensity despite the best efforts of the fire crew and their hoses. Right then an inhuman moaning silenced everyone and he watched openmouthed as the house collapsed in the all-consuming fire. "Holy shit!" someone from the bystander crowd called out. Suddenly the reality that he just barely got him and Dean out crashed through him with the force of a truck; all the emotion went straight to his stomach and he swallowed down a rising tide of nausea.

"So, Sam, I'm Evans but friends call me Anthony," the first officer opened with. Sam had forgotten they were there and acknowledged the introduction with a dubious expression. "That was sure some fire…" he nodded toward the house "…never saw a structure taken down so fast before…you were lucky to get out at all, let alone on your own power. Have any idea how it started?"

Sam was not surprised at the question, '_who would think such a fire was of natural causes, after all?_' Not having an answer to offer, he gaze shifted back to where his brother was and watched as a medic was placing an IV into Dean's arm and another covering his still form with a blanket. "Well, he's ready for transport."

The first officer cleared his throat impatiently.

Sam met the inquisitive glare full on and replied, "no. I was sleeping…next thing I know my brother was waking me up to get out…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean rolled toward the ambulance and pushed in through the back. The doors were shut and a paramedic ran around to the front and got behind the wheel. The vehicles sirens were activated and it zoomed away.

"Uh, huh…" Evans stepped sideways to get Sam's attention "…do you live here?"

Sam paused before replying, still staring where his brother's ambulance once was. "No. Me and my brother were watching the place for the woman who lives here," Sam said. "She's…uh…she left yesterday."

"Where do you live?" The second officer, who never offered his name, asked.

"Uh…well, we're not from around here…we're here on vacation."

"So how do you and this woman know each other?"

"We're staying with a friend who knows her and he was watching the place…when we came, he asked us if we wanted to make some extra money doing it for him…he has a full time job…"

"And what's this guy's name?"

"Uh…it's…"

Lucas returned just then with a sneer for the police officers. "It's time to go. This poor kid has been through a lot, stop harassing him."

Sam's skin started to crawl when he noticed how the three of them were looking at him. He shook his head. "I'm okay, I don't need to go. If you tell me the hospital my brother went to I can call my dad…" he started to push himself off the stretcher "…can I borrow a phone?"

Lucas placed a hand on Sam's chest, effectively keeping him sitting. "You just came out of a burning house…you need to be checked out by a doctor." Lucas lifted his legs and pushed his shoulders down in one fluid move.

"But…" Sam flinched when he unexpectedly felt a sharp pinch just below his shoulder.

"No arguments," Evans said. "You'll do what he says."

With Evans on his right, Lucas on his left and the other officer at his feet, Sam was whisked along. His head was spinning trying to figure the situation he was in…he never experienced this before and was not sure what to do. He cringed but his tired mind could not decide on any other options but to comply. Exhaustion was starting to take over and all he wanted was to get to the hospital in the quickest way possible to see Dean. Nothing else mattered. '_Just relax. Dean will be okay…everything will be okay once I call Dad_,' he told himself, sighed and closed his eyes.

Once they pushed the stretcher and the sleeping patient into the back of the ambulance, Anthony looked at Lucas who was now possessed by Jason. "Let me ride in the back with you. Christian can drive and Frank can return the squad car."

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Heading back to his house, Caleb kept glancing over at John who appeared to be lost in thought. John, however, noticed and wondered, 'i_s he gonna tell me what's with him or is he gonna keep looking at me all night?'_

"Alright…that's enough!" Caleb announced as if reading John's mind. "I took you out and you drank like a fish by the way…then we went shopping, like you wanted, at the grocery store, one of the safest places to talk freely, by the way, and in all that time there is still one key bit of information you neglected to share. What do you plan to do with the dead body you found? Of all that's happening, I have more questions than answers but right now, that's the one that's buggin' me the most."

John stared at him, nonplussed. "You done?"

"Yeah."

"You're not gonna like it," John said, hesitating.

Caleb scoffed at that. "You? Afraid to say what's on your mind?"

John shrugged. "Well, the thing is, we're gonna leave the body alone for now…and it could take days. If after I find out for sure this was the witch, you and me will take it and burn it…if she wasn't the witch, will give an anonymous tip."

"You're right, I don't like it…do you know how fast a corpse turns ripe when left in a sweltering home in the summer in the desert heat?"

"I'm gonna need your help in trying not to think about it."

"Someone passing by with their dog on a leash is gonna pick up the scent sooner rather than later."

"Don't we live in a time when people ignore their neighbors?"

"In some cases just the opposite."

"If that happens, then you'll help me sneak in to the morgue and take it if we need to."

"God, I knew I should have stuck with engineering school," Caleb said as he pulled onto his street and noticed that his driveway was empty. "Uh…John, does Dean relieve his insomnia by taking off in the middle of the night in search of food or sex even?"

John's head shot up to look out the windshield. "No…but I bet I know where they went…to that woman's house and I bet Sam's behind this," John growled.

Caleb pulled into his driveway, shifted into reverse and turned the car back around. A flash of light from a street lamp passed over their faces; he caught sight of John's expression and felt compelled to say, "whoa…easy John…let's just get there and we'll see for ourselves first hand."


	18. Chapter 18

**Warning: slightly graphic descriptions of nonconsensual sex and violence. If this bothers you, please do not read the chapter. Please heed the fact that this story has a rating of 'M'. **

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At the sound of Ian's voice, the men simultaneously looked over the unfamiliar surroundings. "Wh…where are we?" one of them stammered, his eyes resting upon the figure standing two feet away. "What's going on?"

Ian's response was to eye him with a malicious grin and he simply stated, "you two are my leverage." Meanwhile the other man started to push his body up; suddenly he screamed in distress and curled his broken arm into himself, panting and writhing on the floor.

Ian shot forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, lifted him up and shook. "Shut the fuck up!" he shouted then tossed the man onto a table. Ian took a step toward the other person, intending to do the same. The second man tried to scramble away but was not quick enough to evade the demon's reach.

"So it's Ian now, is it?" came a velvety voice, just barely registering louder than the moans coming from the two captive humans. Ian, instantly recognizing who it belonged to, dropped the man back down and spun around. His vessel displayed a stricken expression as he confirmed it was Azazel standing there, just past the entrance.

Ian's brown eyes bore the look of Azazel's bright yellow ones; both pairs locked for an instant before Ian turned his away. Azazel sneered then scanned the area ahead of him as he took another step inside. With arms outstretched, he said, "is this the best you can do?"

"Azazel! I expect the Winchester boy here soon…to have what Ruby needs in hand before the night is over."

"Change of plans…I no longer have any use for you."

"But Meg..."

"...alerted me of a flaw in your methods," Azazel concluded.

Ian glared at him. "Are you here to do the job then?"

"No."

"Then let me see it through…I know the finer workings of Ruby's spell...that the kid is to give consent."

In the blink of an eye, Azazel closed the distance and grabbed Ian's shirt with both hands. "I am here to see to it firsthand that you leave this world. Perhaps someday I may give you another chance but now all I want is to know you are back in hell, _suffering_. I have plans…bigger than you…I will _not_ stand by and watch them destroyed!"

"Them? You mean the Winchesters? They're Hunters with one thing on their mind."

"I know that," Azazel snarled. "Meg knows that…we are on the same page. Now you on the other hand…I now see I was wrong to bring you in on this, I can see what your intentions are. These are no ordinary Hunters and are to be treated differently."

"Meg bugged their car...toys with them...wastes time!"

Azazel smiled at that and released Ian. "I like to toy with humans, too…wait, she bugged their car?" The yellow-eyed demon massaged his chin, considering that piece of information for a moment. "That's the kind of out of the box thinking I like. Thanks for enlightening me…" Azazel glanced at the two injured men nearby who were gawking back at him "…fine, for your trouble, you can do what you want with these two…think of them as your consolation prize…then you must return."

Ian clenched his fists as he watched Azazel turn to exit and vanish. He gazed downwards and vowed in a low voice, "Meg…I'm gonna kill you…first chance I get, I swear…I don't know when or where but I know the day will come. Then I'm going to enjoy beating the shit out of that damn Winchester kid, nice and slow."

The whimpers from the humans as they tried to crawl toward the exit overtook Ian's dark musings. They had managed to carry themselves several feet from their initial positions and were visibly quivering in fear and pain nearby. "Like he said…'change in plans'…" Ian looked to each one in turn and remarked, "you I'm gonna call Sam and you I'm gonna call Meg."

If anyone had been passing outside the condemned building just then, they would have heard screaming followed by the awful sound of tearing flesh.

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Sam knew only that he was horizontal, vibrations he felt along his spine told him he was in a moving vehicle. Aside from that, he felt detached from his body and could not think beyond what was familiar; he imagined he must be dozing on the back seat of the Impala.

Seconds later, Sam registered the cool air surrounding him. Still foggy, his brain was unable to postulate how that was possible for he did not feel the wind whipping through his hair. '_Usually they drive with the windows down,_' he thought, his eyebrows slightly wrinkling at the puzzling discrepancy.

"Dean?" he murmured.

"I thought you said he would be out for a while," a strange voice said.

"Well, there must be something about his physical make up," another voice replied. "Drugs are funny sometimes…people react differently to the same dose."

Hearing this conversation, Sam's mind became a bit more lucid and entertained recollections of hunting a witch, searching a house, escaping a fire; however, these events contained a distant dreamlike quality.

Suddenly, Sam felt cold air tickling his abdomen and he shivered. He reached lower to pull his shirt back down and felt hands pushing against his, trying to lift his shirt up higher. '_My_ s_hirt…_' The thought prompted his eyes to quickly open whereupon he hissed at the pain from lights too bright. Sam immediately shut them again but not before catching sight of a face hovering near him. More reality came rushing back; he and Dean were searching the house, there was a fire, Dean lost consciousness and fell down the stairs.

Sam then remembered he was in an ambulance and must have dozed off. _'Jason must be checking me again_…_he doesn't know'_ Sam surmised and squinted his eyes to look at the medic. "Don't touch my shirt…" he croaked and swatted the hand away "…there's a poison on it!"

"Is he hallucinating?" said the same voice.

Sam angled his neck upwards while registering the voice came from that police officer. '_Oh God_,' Sam thought frantically. _'Why is he here?_ _Are we__ under arrest or something?_'

"Maybe…that _is_ one of the side effects after all. Drugs are funny sometimes," said Jason.

_Am I really hallucinating?'_ Sam wondered and scanned his surroundings in more depth to decide if that was true.

"Good…switch places with me," said Anthony.

Suddenly alarmed but not sure why, Sam's eyes opened wider. He looked back up over his shoulder to see the officer leering at him while he and Jason shifted positions. "What the hell are you looking at?" he demanded angrily, trying to mask his unease.

Without a word, Anthony seated himself, leaned forward and proceeded to unfasten Sam's jeans, revealing the thin layer of cotton boxers. The shocking act momentarily stunned Sam but then the policeman's menacing intentions were clear. Upon seeing the officer's hands returning toward him, he was jolted into action.

"Fuck off, pervert!" Sam growled as he held the man's wrists and pushed his hands away. Sam then tried to sit up but something was preventing him; he grimaced in frustration at the realization that safety harnesses were fastened around his upper arms and legs. Without a second thought, Sam let go of the officer and reached up to undo the strap securing his upper body.

"You need to keep those on," Jason said while prying Sam's fingers away from the buckle. In the meantime, Anthony took advantage of the opportunity to easily slide a hand under his boxers.

"I must say, I'm impressed," Anthony murmured.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Sam shouted and turned his hips away from the unwanted contact but the man had a good hold on him. Sam yanked his arms out of Jason's grasp, once again reached for Anthony's hand and shoved it away.

With both hands, Anthony captured Sam's wrists and secured them together in one tight grip. He then leaned forward, stopping his face inches from the fifteen year olds. Sam held his breath to avoid inhaling the officer's rancid odor and Anthony whispered, "what the hell are you gonna do now?" Before Sam could react, the officer licked him from chin to ear while maneuvering his other hand to renew his assault.

Anthony was able to get a hand back underneath despite Sam's thrashing around, the safety belts were just too much of a hindrance and the officer's grip on his wrists did not loosen.

"No! Don't!" Sam pleaded.

"Too late! I mean to finish what I started..." he chuckled and stroked him roughly "...what I'm gonna do to you is nothing compared to Ian."

'_Who's Ian?' _Sam looked around wildly but all he saw was Jason placidly watching with flat eyes and a small smile on his face. '_Is he the driver of this thing?_'

The officer laughed at the wild-eyed expression he saw on Sam's face; it was an awful laugh conveying confidence that he could do what he wanted and Sam could not stop it.

Sam softly cried out when he felt a rough finger enter inside him, the young man then went ballistic. Sam spat on his attacker's face and fought back as best he could, kicking and squirming, trying to throw off his assailant.

Anthony grunted when Sam managed to pull his right hand free and solidly connected it with the officer's jaw. He backed away and exclaimed, "do something Jason…this kid will mark himself up and Ian will be pissed we messed with him."

While Sam was struggling with Anthony, Jason wordlessly reached for a syringe from a drawer along the divider between the driver's seat and the back, uncapped it and suddenly jabbed the needle into Sam's deltoid muscle, causing him to gasp in surprise.

Sam's efforts against the officer's assault had little effect and now he felt himself weakening. He shot Lucas a murderous glare, watching while the medic sat on the seat to his left now doing paperwork. "You're really gonna just sit there and do nothing?"

Lucas looked back at him and snarled, "shut up…you breathe a word about this and your brother is dead—I can give him something and no one will know…"

'_You go near my brother, I'll find you and kill you,'_ Sam vowed in his mind but said nothing for his father often told him to try not to verbalize threats. Instead, he continued to scowl at the medic as he threatened.

"…I can also have Anthony here arrest you now for that suspicious fire. So unless that's what you want, you can shut up."

Upon hearing that, Sam's blood ran cold and he considered Jason's words; he had sounded deadly serious. Sam quickly determined the best course of action would be to just tolerate this ordeal, _'I'm am a Winchester, after all,_' he told himself. He swallowed the dread he felt and screwed his eyes shut, his hands weakly squeezed the sides of his stretcher in anticipation of the anguish to come while part of him prayed he could escape before meeting this 'Ian' and the promise of worse things to come.

Whatever Jason injected him with started to take further effect. Sam's emotions were evening out and he had the strange sensation of floating; objects in his vision started swimming before his eyes slid shut, then the rest of his body turned increasingly numb until he was effectively paralyzed.

All at once, Sam and the others pitched toward the front of the ambulance when it came to a grinding halt. "It's Meg," the driver simply reported.

The vehicle shook slightly as she opened the back doors and climbed up. She then angled around and her eyes narrowed at the twisted scene playing out before her.

Anthony pulled his hand away and returned her glare. "What?"

Sam was lying there squirming, eyes squeezed shut, forehead wrinkled in pain. A glance further down revealed his jeans opened down around his hips. Something stirred in her at the sight of him and she said, "fuck waiting for the library."

"No Meg…we're taking him to Ian." Jason said.

"Meg, you're in on this?" Anthony said. "I thought you and Ian were at odds."

"In on what? This fake hijacking you've got planned to bring that kid to my brother?"

"How did you know?"

"Saw Frank. I sent him on his way and I'm here to tell you it's over. And don't worry about Ian…Azazel is confronting him as we speak."

Sam managed to crack open an eye when the officer broke his perverted physical contact but the more he tried to focus, the harder it was. He felt exhausted from his traumatic ordeal and furthermore, the conversation made no sense to his drugged mind. Sam gave up fighting the sedating effects and allowed sleep to overtake him.

Meg spoke in a low voice, gazing toward Sam. "Maybe I can salvage the situation." She then lifted her eyes toward Jason and Anthony and said, "what you're doing stops now and I won't sick Azazel on you next." She glared at Anthony "NOW GO!"

Anthony immediately flew out through the back and took off running.

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do?"

"Something tells me I need to end my mission tonight and this is turning out to be the ideal situation. Jason, you ride up front with Christian…turn off at the next street for a bit then you will bring Sam directly to the ER and then get your sorry asses as far away from here as possible. Clear?"

Meg then pulled the rear doors shut as Jason moved to the passenger seat. She turned around and ran a hand through Sam's hair. "Looks to me like he is out of it, but not too far gone…that's good…" Meg looked up to see the male demons gawking at her. "Well, turn around and start driving like I said! This ain't no fucking peep show."

Once Meg was relatively alone with Sam, she did not waste any time yanking her skirt and panties off. She stepped forward and immediately kissed him, running her hands through his hair again. She then arched her neck to nuzzle his throat. He moaned softly, clearly enjoying the sensation, but never opened his eyes. Surmising Sam might be easily controllable, she smiled and whispered, "Ah, Sam…I'm Candy and…"

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"…I'm only gonna make you feel good,_" a soft female voice whispered, her face an inch away from his. A hand pushed up his bangs, caressed and a soft brief kiss touched his lips, then she trailed soft kisses down his neck then along his collar bone. His nerve endings stirred at the sensual connection between them and he tried to reach up to her but could not for some reason. "_Shhh…_" came her voice brushing his ear _"…just relax and enjoy this._" _

_There was a long moment he believed this was another nightmare about Amy and part of his self-awareness felt something else was wrong—difficult to ignore but, as the strange woman persisted in her wonderful kisses, all that was forgotten. He was helpless not to give into the bliss and do what she had suggested._

_The woman's fingertips gently ran along his sides and down to his hips eliciting an instant swell of arousal. It began to press against his boxers and his hips bucked involuntarily, he sucked in a breath. "_Don't rush it…enjoy it,"_ she whispered. The fabric of his jeans and boxers were slid further along his thighs and down to his knees, effectively freeing his growing erection; his sensitive skin prickled with the sudden onslaught of cool air._

_He felt his eyes fluttering and imagined a brief flash of an attractive female with long brown hair falling like a curtain around his head and sighed contentedly. He did not know how he knew but it seemed to him this woman was well acquainted with what she was doing; he responded favorably as this woman started to stroke until he became hard. _

_The next thing he was aware of was a weight on his hips and he heard himself moan as a moist heat gently encircled him. He was being kissed all the meanwhile as the molten sensation waxed and waned, slow and steady. Part of him could not hold still, his movements took over and his breathing sped up when amazing feelings he wasn't used to were building exponentially. Suddenly he jerked with a gasp, inside her with one long final thrust, holding his breath at that moment when he experienced such intense ecstasy convulsing entirely through him; the unexpected pleasure carried him along spiraling into a cocoon of warmth and contentment._

Meg smiled at his groan of pleasure, placed one final passionate kiss on his lips. When a milestone is achieved, a certain quiet comes and just such a stillness pervaded throughout the interior of the ambulance; for this situation, it was kept brief.

Meg then lifted her body up to stand next to the stretcher and held a small container between her legs for catching the fluid that dripped down them.

In a hurry to get the contents to the refrigerator, Meg quickly dressed, the eyes of the demons remaining averted out of respect. She then flung open the rear doors, turned to Jason in the front and said, "remember what I said…this one is to be brought straight to the hospital."

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John and Caleb swore under their breath when they saw flashing lights from fire trucks and police cars surrounding the woman's house. Caleb immediately parked his car as close as possible while John, having determined his boys were not in the middle of a covert operation, opened up his phone and dialed Dean's number.

Caleb focused on John's impassive expression as he waited for a response on the other end. Seconds later, John disconnected the call and pounded the dash board in frustration. "No answer, just voice mail…dammit! If anything happened to them…"

John's face twisted up into a mask of fear, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrible scene before them. The house was gone; it was reduced to a smoldering pile of ashes, still crackling and hissing as the fire hoses continued to spray. The air was hazy from the smoke wafting about.

Caleb reached over, put his hand on John's shoulder and squeezed, trying to convey support. He heard hitching in John's breathing and realized he was trying not to sob. "Hey, I bet they're on their way home, thinking they could beat it back there before we'd return."

John turned to face Caleb, his face backlit by the flashing lights, and his nod was barely perceptible. "Let's go ask around." He first scrutinized the rest of the scene before him. Standing around were a few curious onlookers; observers, John was sure, once part of a much larger group. They all continued to watch as the firefighters were wrapping things up, their job nearly done. A couple of investigators were wandering the premises, snapping pictures of the ruined structure. An officer was walking the perimeter, winding yellow tape around the occasional tree and street light poles.

Just then, one of the bystanders turned and began walking away. John threw open his door and jumped out of the car then Caleb followed. "Excuse me," John called out as he ran over to the man who stopped and spun around. "I was passing by…what happened? Were you here the whole time?"

"Sure was…I live three doors down. Over an hour ago, I heard the sirens and came out to see this house completely on fire. As you can see, it was quite a fire…I heard one of the firefighters say it had to be arson…Beth, the woman who lives in that house, wasn't there…so I'm kinda suspicious too…this wasn't your usual fire, that's for sure…"

John shook his head in frustration as the man rambled on. "So there was no one in the house?"

"Yeah, there was…that's actually why I'm suspicious of the whole thing. I didn't see clearly but I think there were two or three who got out, guys I had never seen before. I think one of them was taken to hospital in ambulance. You can talk to Peter…" the man pointed to a person now making his way over to join them "…he was a little closer to the action."

Peter had heard the last of what his neighbor had said and observed John's worried expression. "Two men came out as the house was burning, one looked to be in pretty bad shape. They were taken in an ambulance like Alex just said."

"When did they leave?" Caleb asked.

"Uh…" he tilted his head "…maybe about an hour ago."

John simply spun back around and rushed to Caleb's car without a word of thanks. Both neighbors made a face but Caleb stepped up. "Thanks," he said with a nod then ran to catch up with John who was already sitting behind the wheel.

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Sam awoke gradually. Any disconnect as to where he might be was short-lived when his eyes fluttered open. He first noted he was in a bright room, lying on a bed and had been changed out of his clothes. Initially indistinct, the paneled ceiling and metal rod with curtains surrounding his bed formed into focus, indicating he had made it to the hospital.

A feeling of vague apprehension started to creep into his increasing awareness, making Sam's skin crawl. Then he remembered how he just dreamed about having sex and started to feel his body relax from those pleasant memories. He tried to hold on to the powerful ecstasy he had felt but the passing of time, _'how long was I out, anyway?_' he thought randomly, prevented him from advancing beyond how he remembered what it felt like.

Sam gave up trying to relive it after a minute and could not help thinking, '_'it felt so real but had to be a dream, didn't it? I mean in what reality does an unconscious guy have sex with a woman while in an ambulance?_' Sam smirked when he added, '_well, strike that…Dean would say anything is possible.'_ Sam casually looked to his right and his eyes widened a bit with surprise at the sight of his dad slouched in a chair, sleeping, his head resting on a raised arm.


End file.
